In Dreams
by Bookkbaby
Summary: EragonMurtagh SLASH INCEST. Eragon must come to terms with his homosexuality in a homophobic world, while Murtagh must try to convince Eragon that some things are worth reaching for.
1. Eragon

A/N: My second attempt at this fandom (because we need more slash)! Please enjoy everyone!

BLANKET WARNINGS: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

BLANKET DISCLAIMER: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

On with the story!

Italics: _dreams or imaginings_

In Dreams I

_Pale skin._

_Gentle hands._

_Dark eyes._

_Emotion. Connection._

_Longing. Love._

_Want. Need._

_Smooth lips pressing kisses all over his body._

_A husky voice, calling his name._

_"Eragon..."_

The brown-haired teen woke with a start, sitting up in his bed. The rich covers slid down his chest, pooling in his lap as he tried to regain his breath after the intense dream.

Eragon slowly calmed down, resting his forehead in one of his palms as he tried to will away the enticing images the dream had left him with. The intensity of the dream didn't scare him- such dreams were considered normal among men his age- but the other person in his dreams did.

It wasn't normal. Eragon knew that he himself was out of the ordinary, but this was one thing he was not willing to accept abnormality in. It was wrong. Everyone in Carvahall had drilled it into him the moment he was old enough to understand that boys were supposed to like girls.

He could clearly remember a day- five years ago, sometime in fall- when a boy named Talc had admitted to being strange. Talc had been a good person and a hard worker. Most of the villagers had been extremely fond of him- and at eighteen years old, scarcely had a person's future looked brighter.

Eragon could remember going to the village with Garrow and Roran that day, to sell off some surplus food they had. It had been an excellent harvest that year.

They had just gotten into the village when all three had heard shouting. Loud, angry, accusing voices. The brunette could remember running, bundle weighing heavily on his back, all the way to the square where the shouting originated.

The people of Carvahall were standing on one side, and Talc was on the other. Garrow must have understood what was going on right away, but Eragon and Roran had taken longer to get it. It had soon become clear to both boys what the matter was.

Talc- tall, reliable, hardworking Talc- was strange, and that made him a bad person. Eragon could remember looking from Talc to the villagers, and he could see that- while all of Carvahall was on one side- only a few people were shouting. Some people were looking away, some were looking apologetic, and some seemed so sad. The brown-haired teen could remember being surprised that Talc's own mother was one of the people shouting. Talc's father had been quiet- he must have had the saddest look of all.

Looking back now, it was impossible to remember everything that had been shouted at Talc, but Eragon had rarely seen the man after that. Eragon could remember seeing him once more before he had disappeared.

It had been at night- it had been dark, but Eragon had needed to retrieve some item from town that Roran had forgotten. On his way back, a noise had made him pause at an alleyway.

He could remember squinting into the gloom, and seeing a huddled figure. He had taken a few steps in, but then the figure had looked up. It had, of course, been Talc. Eragon could remember a lot of red on the other's face- red-rimmed eyes, and blood from Talc's nose and mouth. Bruises were also evident- on his face, on his arms, on his chest. It had frightened Eragon badly, and when the wounded figure before him had opened his mouth to speak, he had turned and ran.

He had run almost all the way back home, and had put Talc out of his mind by the time he returned. To his thirteen-year-old mind, Talc was a bad person and therefore not important.

Eragon could also remember what he had seen when he had gotten home that night. It had been a small thing- barely worth remembering- but to think of it now made him sick.

Roran had hurt his hands. Well, not his hands, but his knuckles, and had somehow blackened his eye though the brown-haired boy could not understand how. Eragon had also seen some of the other boys in the village with injuries for a few days after- most had bruises, but all seemed extremely proud of themselves because of something.

He hadn't given it much thought, though it had been obvious to everyone else.

Eragon felt bile rise in his throat. Some part of him had probably known then what had befallen Talc, but he had chosen to overlook it. Roran had been like a brother to him- to think him capable of such senseless violence...

The Rider paled, scrambling out of his bed.

'Brother…'

He ran to the small bathroom attached to the room he had been given. In there, the washbasin was constantly kept full of water, which had been a godsend to him since the dreams had started becoming a nightly event.

He stood over the bowl, dipping his hands in the cool liquid and splashing his face with it. It helped a bit.

Taking more water into his cupped palms, Eragon rubbed the liquid over his face.

Why had this happened to him? He was a good person- a Rider, fighting the good fight against an evil tyrant to free the people of Alagaesia! He had been so certain that being a Rider was as strange as he would get.

Angela's prophecy had almost assured him of that too. He had been so relieved to hear Angela speak about his love life. He had never noticed girls, and had just assumed that he was waiting for the right woman to come along.

Angela basically told him that he had been waiting in her prophecy.

'"An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates--for that is a magical symbol--and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."' The words repeated in his mind, mocking him.

Hearing those words- the last line especially- had put him at ease. Even if the love did not end happily, it was reassuring to hear 'she', not...

Eragon took a deep breath.

What Angela hadn't told him then had caused him a lot of pain. It should have been obvious, but he had been so relieved and had taken her words for granted.

The bones had given the fortuneteller a message, and Eragon could not deny that the predictions were truth- but Angela had missed one, crucial detail. The bones represented higher powers, and those higher powers used the bones only as a medium to explain the mysteries of what would be. Those higher powers only revealed what needed to be known, to those who needed to know it. Angela had made one grave mistake.

The bones did not read differently to different sexes. They bore their message, and it was up to the reader to interpret the meaning. The same bones were used, on the same cloth with the same markings. Little details- such as 'who', 'when', or even... Some things were not revealed.

And one small assumption on the fortuneteller's part could ruin a reading. One small assumption on Angela's part had messed up his.

Yes, on most counts Angela had been right, but on the one that had mattered most to Eragon she had been wrong.

Yes, the one Eragon loved was of noble birth. His beloved- despite the strangeness of the term in regards to the one Eragon dreamt about- was the child of a man who had been very close to a king. The man had been a staunch supporter, and had assisted in said king's rise to power. In return for his loyalty, his beloved's father had received a vast estate and had most certainly been the king's right-hand man. Noble most certainly described Eragon's dream lover- even in looks and bearing. Even before Eragon had known the other's bloodline, he had sensed a regal air about that person.

Yes, the one Eragon loved was powerful. More skilled in magic than Eragon himself and their sword skills were an even match. There had been such fire when they fought- it had been beautiful. His partner had been pure poetry, and in his dreams he still recalled their many fights and spars. Lithe strength, grace, and pale perfection were not strong enough compliments. Eragon could still remember the feel of strong muscles against him from the single time they had wrestled. He had been shocked and even a little disgusted at the time for noticing, but even the memory could cause a shiver of pleasure to run though his veins.

The one Eragon loved was most certainly wise. Those dark hazel eyes had always shone with keen intellect, and not a single conversation of theirs had ever bored him. Ever since he had met the other, Eragon could remember wanting nothing more than conversation with his beloved, and for more than just a chance to hear that beautiful voice...

Eragon shivered again, looking away from the washbasin as the water stilled enough to show his reflection. This late at night, his mind was apt to play cruel tricks on him.

As for the final part of Angela's prophecy, she had interpreted the last word wrong. She had placed too much in one assumption, and the last word had been changed.

Eragon would not hesitate to call his love 'beautiful', but handsome was the word most would use to describe him. Angela had not thought that Eragon would fall in love with another man, and so her prediction had been spoken as if the one Eragon loved would be female. 'Beautiful' was not the word.

But no one would dispute that Murtagh was handsome.

Furious with himself for thinking such thoughts- it was wrong! Wrong!- Eragon punched the wall above the basin. His hand stung, but he ignored the pain.

Images swirled in his mind.

_A pale chest, strong and dusted lightly with markings that had come from his own lips._

_Those usually cold eyes that his imagination could so easily conjure, darkened with want and desire._

_That long hair, teasingly soft in his hands._

Eragon's hands clenched into tight fists uncontrollably, imagining what it would be like to tangle his fingers in those brown silk strands but wanting to resist the urge.

_That voice, already so deep, calling his name seductively. That voice, begging._

_Those lips, kissing him breathlessly. Those lips, claiming him._

_That tongue..._

Eragon punched the wall again, teeth biting into his lower lip as he begged his imagination to stop its torment of him.

_"Eragon..."_

Murtagh's voice reverberated in his mind, the sound breathless and pleading.

_Callused fingers running over his chest._

_A hot mouth on his neck, marking him for everyone to see._

Imaginings of what would never be. What should never be.

Blood trickled slowly down Eragon's chin, the warm crimson flowing from his bitten lip.

With a strangled, angry cry, the brunette turned back to his room. Despite the fact that he knew no more sleep would come that night, he lay down in his bed.

The cold sheets welcomed him. He wrapped himself tightly in the cloth, mind wandering for just a moment what it would be like to fall asleep next to the one who was a constant fixture in his dreams, warm and sated...

_Arms wrapped around him protectively._

_Content breathing behind him, lulling him into a dreamless sleep._

"_Eragon…"_

With a small, choked breath, Eragon sat up again.

He put his face in his hands.

It was wrong.

'Murtagh...' Eragon took a few deep breaths, the noise sounding horribly loud in the silent room.

It wasn't normal. He should have fallen in love with a girl- not another boy. Murtagh should mean nothing to him other than a friend- even less, now that they were bitter enemies.

It had nearly killed him when he had learned of Murtagh's apparent death, but he had kept moving and kept himself busy so he wouldn't go mad with grief. Mixed emotions had swirled inside him once he had met his beloved again. Relief- Murtagh was alive! - had been mixed with sorrow so crushing it had forced the air from his lungs. Murtagh, on the side of Galbatorix? It hadn't seemed possible, but it had been all too true.

Eragon still longed to wake up, and have this entire journey be one long nightmare.

Even with the knowledge that they were to be enemies in the coming war, Eragon had still longed just as strongly for the other man. A fierce protectiveness had risen up in him, as well as a desire for vengeance. How dare Galbatorix force Murtagh's loyalty from him? Eragon had wanted to free the other from the forced servitude, but the information revealed next had shaken him and driven all thoughts of revenge from his mind.

'Brother', Murtagh had called him. They were blood related.

In that moment, Eragon's world had come crashing down. The love he harbored had always been a source of great shame to him, but now it was more than just a shameful secret. It was worse than the worst abomination, more horrifying than the pits of Hell- not only did he love a man, but he loved one who was related to him as well.

_"Eragon…"_

As wrong as it was, he could not stop the dreams, and he could not stop the longing. He could not calm his heart whenever he saw Murtagh, riding proudly on the back of Thorn. He could not catch his breath, or erase his worry when someone made mention of his brother being in a battle. In the time it had taken him to see his feelings for what they were- getting past the denial and the confusion had taken him a while- they had already become a part of him. He could no more stop loving Murtagh than stop breathing, despite the wrongness of that love.

The feelings he had for his brother were deeply rooted in his heart, and as strong and unmovable as the mightiest tree in Du Weldenvarden. The most he would be able to do was keep them a secret for now.

But, like the trees he compared them to, his feelings would grow. They grew daily, with each new dream and each new bit of news he received about the other.

How long until he slipped?

How long until everyone in the Varden saw him for what he was- a freak, not a hero? A wretch, not a Rider?

How long until he could no longer hide his emotions from Murtagh? What then?

It was not a matter of 'if'- it was 'when'.

What would he do when his wrongness was revealed, and his emotions put on display for all to see?

When he was threatened and beaten like Talc, what would he do?

Who would turn on him?

Would anyone accept him?

Eragon took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

Even if no one understood him, he was not alone. Saphira would always stand beside him- he was sure of that. She would be his lifeline once everyone found out- once everyone inevitably rejected him.

He could not allow himself to hope that someone would still see him as Eragon, without a harsh, hurtful label. He could not hope that someone would not see how wrong and wretched he was, and would still accept him.

_"Eragon…"_

Hope was a fragile emotion. It was too easily crushed, and took too much to sustain.

Eragon slowly lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

All of his questions were thoughts for another time. He could not answer them right now, and the emotional roller coaster he had just been on had exhausted him mentally and emotionally.

He yawned, suddenly sleepy.

His eyes closed, and he forced his body to relax. He allowed himself to drift back into the realm of dreams, where he knew open arms awaited him. A strong, protective embrace would hold him there, and keep him safe until he awoke again.

At least in his dreams, what was wrong in the waking world was all right. The harshness of reality melted away, and he was free to love whoever he chose.

At least in his dreams, loving Murtagh was not wrong.

_Warmth like he had never felt before, enveloping him._

_Contentment. Security. Belonging._

_Safe._

_Soft kiss._

_Warm expression._

_"Eragon…"_

TBC

Hopefully it wasn't too awful. It's 2:18 AM and I started this at 11 PM, so I hope it was readable. Please tell me what you think- was he IC? Was he not? Should I give up all hope and jump off the EraMur ship?

Originally a one-shot, I am now continuing it. Look for Chapter II next week!


	2. Murtagh

Since everyone who matters (that would be you, my readers) liked 'In Dreams' and since I got inspiration for continuing it, I have decided to lengthen 'In Dreams' and make it a chapter fic. I'll continue writing EraMur and I promise not to jump ship at the risk of getting (I quote) my 'soggy ass dragged back up'. (That was really very clever- it made me laugh, so I had to quote you, Gospel!)

Anyways, I have several more chapters planned. Enjoy! (And tell me how I'm doing with continuing it- it was planned as a one-shot originally and I usually don't continue them once I'm done, so this is new for me.)

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions and sacrificing her free time to do so. Without her, the 'shiny' level of this fic would be a lot lower. Also dedicated to Mercury Bohemian, for writing such a long, fantastic review! I hope I can be worthy of your praise, and that you enjoy the characters and their actions and thoughts just as much later on in the story!

Sorry about the shortness of this chapter… it's only 7 pages… 

Italics: _dreams or imaginings_

In Dreams II

Hazel eyes stared up at the stone ceiling, a light sheen of sweat cooling on his pale skin rapidly due to the coldness of the dungeon room.

Images from his most recent dream flowed freely through his mind.

_Desire. Confusion._

_Tentative kiss._

_A warm body in his arms._

_Need._

_"Murtagh..."_

He lay on his back in his bed, arms folded behind his head and one leg bent at the knee. He couldn't sleep, as much as he wanted to- not with the images running through his mind. He was exhausted from numerous days on the road, but sleep eluded him. After fighting battle after battle, getting stronger and more ruthless with every man slain by his blade, he had finally been allowed to return 'home'.

Murtagh smiled ruefully. 'Home' wasn't the right term. Home seemed to indicate the presence of a family, someone who cared about you and actually wanted you with them for reasons other than power.

He rolled onto his side, keeping one arm under his head and moving the other to rest on the red covers before him.

'Family' was an odd word for him, of all people, to use. What had he known of 'family'?

A father that had nearly killed him for some small transgression or other. A mother who had died when he was young- all he could remember of her was a gentle, soothing sensation. She had cared for him, but she had left him at the mercy of his father for the month she was gone to bear her second son.

Eragon. His brother.

Murtagh sighed softly at the memory. He had never been into small towns, and had never seen children his own age until he had escaped Galbatorix for the first time. He had not been raised- he had been taught skills he would need to survive, and they had left him to form his own set of morals and ideas.

They had probably been hoping he wouldn't have any.

That was why, when he had felt the first stirrings of longing for the brown-haired Rider he had met while traveling, it had not disgusted him. Rather, he had welcomed the sensation- he had never felt anything like it. He knew he was attractive- when he stopped by taverns and inns for a night, the local girls would stare. He had never felt anything in return for them, and so had ignored their advances.

The fact that he had never desired anyone had frightened him- he wanted to be able to love someone. He didn't want to have a stone in place of his heart.

His hand went to his chest, feeling the rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump of his heart as it beat.

He had always felt so detached- as a young boy, separating himself from what he was feeling was a means of survival. He had believed himself too far gone and incapable of softer emotions by the time he had met his brother, but that had changed.

At first, it hadn't seemed anything special. Intrigue- a boy a bit younger than he was, the only hope for a free Alagaesia. That boy, the first Rider in decades. That boy, matching him in sparring. Murtagh had always prided himself on his swordwork, and had been surprised that there was someone who could match him, as well as delighted to finally have a worthy sparring partner.

As time went on, however, that interest had increased, a desire to learn everything about Eragon quickly following. The physical wants had come shortly after.

Even the physical desires had started out small and innocent.

_"Murtagh..."_

_Begging. Pleading._

_Pleasing._

Smiling, Murtagh closed his eyes and allowed his mind to transport him back to treasured and oft-visited memories.

Flashback

It had not been long after they had met that it had happened. Eragon had been so exhausted from traveling that day that he had instantly fallen asleep once they had eaten. It had been Murtagh's turn to take first watch that night anyway, so he had gently moved the other Rider to a more comfortable position and covered him with a blanket.

Saphira had taken vague notice of the proceedings- she had come to trust Murtagh. Soon after, she too had fallen asleep.

Murtagh had been alone but for the crackling of the warm fire he sat next to and the sounds of insects and animals in the surrounding woods. For a while, he had scanned the treeline but had seen nothing. Trusting his ears to alert him to anything approaching- Urgals were not known for their subtlety- he had stared at the hot flames.

They had seemed to dance, entrancing him, until he had happened to glance beyond their glow.

Light and shadow had danced is beautiful, seemingly random patterns, but they were not what held his gaze.

Eragon had seemed so peaceful and serene- almost happy. He had been relaxed, not tensed with the constant strain of his uphill battle for survival.

Murtagh could only vaguely recall movement, but then he had been kneeling next to the sleeping figure, his back to the fire. Of it's own accord, his hand had lifted to run gentle fingers down his brother's face.

The skin had felt smooth, only slightly roughed by the life Eragon had lead up until that point. Murtagh could remember his shock and fear as Eragon had shifted underneath his hand- what would he do if the other woke up to find Murtagh so close? - but then relief and awe as he realized that Eragon had shifted closer to him, and was in fact leaning into his palm.

Somehow, that small gesture had warmed him more than the fire behind him.

End Flashback

A small smile spread over pale lips as he lost himself deeper in the memories.

Flashback

They had been traveling for several days, sparring each night. It had been a godsend to find a stream, and despite the cold water both men had decided that a bath would be in order.

They had followed their usual before-sleep routine, ending with an exhausting spar that had gone on much longer than usual. By the time they had decided to end for the day, it was very, very late.

It had been Eragon to suggest that they bathe together- as it was, he had joked, the person bathing might fall asleep and drown. Murtagh had seen no reason not to- the stream was plenty big, and he couldn't deny that a thrill went through him at the idea.

It had been oddly silent as they stripped, leaving their clothes a good distance from the stream so they wouldn't get wet. The refreshing feeling of the water had been wonderful on his dirt-covered body. He had dunked his head under, rubbing his scalp as vigorously as he could to try and clean it at least a little.

Surfacing, he had shaken his head to rid himself of the excess water before it got in his eyes. Some, of course, still did. He had rubbed his eyes and then blinked several times, his vision clearing to normal.

That's when he noticed the eyes.

Eragon was staring at him with an almost longing look. Well, to be more precise, Eragon was staring at his chest.

Before Murtagh could comment on it- not that he didn't enjoy the attention- Eragon had turned away and dunked under the water himself. The rest of their bath passed in silence, but every so often Murtagh felt eyes staring at him.

End Flashback

Hazel eyes opened, allowing the pleasant memories to fade. They were in the past now, and they would never be again.

If only he hadn't been stupid enough as to trust the Twins that day...

If it had been anyone else with Ajihad to go hunting down the remaining Urgals...

_"Murtagh..."_

_Breathy gasp._

... then he'd still be pining for Eragon, but much closer. Temptingly, tauntingly close. Despite all the happy memories he had of himself and Eragon, there was only one time that the other had shown any conscious interest- that one time in the bath. Since then, they had become enemies and revealed as blood relatives.

'Any attraction he had for me has died by now.'

A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

"What is it?" he called, irritated and not bothering to move. More than likely it was a message from Galbatorix with a chore for him to accomplish tomorrow.

"King Galbatorix wishes me to inform you that you and your dragon will ride into battle tomorrow against the rebels. A servant will be sent to wake you at dawn and help you with your armor." The messenger's oily voice came through the door, only slightly muffled by the strong wood. Murtagh grunted in acknowledgement.

"Are there any messages you would like me to carry, sir?"

"No. You're dismissed." Murtagh said. He listened as the light footsteps of the King's messenger faded into the distance.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back, yanking the covers over his body as he did so. Waking at dawn was never a fun experience, and he needed to be well rested for the battle tomorrow. As much as he hated the hand life had dealt him this round, he had no wish to fold. Not yet.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his thoughts to drift. At first his mind focused on the coldness of the sheets, the dankness of the room, the upcoming fight, the worry that he might not make it...

Slowly, these thoughts calmed and landed on the subject always lurking just below the surface.

Yawning, Murtagh drifted from the waking world with a smile on his face, knowing his dreams would be pleasant.

_Chocolate eyes._

_Warm body pressed close to him._

_Protectiveness. Belonging._

_Soft, welcoming lips._

_Fingers tangling in his hair._

_Soft._

_"Please..."_

_Closer. Desperate._

_"Murtagh..."_

TBC

A/N: All I have to say is- if you enjoyed this chapter and the previous one, just wait until we get to Chapters 4 and 5… (Four was fun- and evil- for me to write, and five we have some more angsty fun with our favorite Blue Rider! You'll love it- promise!)

Well, hopefully that was as enjoyable as the first one! Look for In Dreams III next week! (Sorry again about the shortness of this chapter- they get longer. Trust me- they get a lot longer. I've had to split the next two into two parts, and I may have to split 5 into three parts. We'll have to see…) Thank you all for your love and support!

And yes, this reads kind of like a one-shot too, but our boys meet up next chapter. Then is when things start really rolling. (I figure I did a chapter from Eragon's point of view, so I had to do one for Murtagh. As I hope was obvious, Murtagh is not nearly as opposed to being gay as his brother.)

Hopefully he was IC- I love him to pieces, so I may have changed him a bit by accident…

One more thing- I'm not already getting repetitive with the short dream sequences, am I? They'll be in every chapter, as the story is 'In Dreams', but if they're annoying and take away from the story I'll take them out. Obviously, they get a bit less numerous later on (more action, less introspective, but still plenty of chances to get inside their heads…)

Next week: This thing really kicks off, and our boys meet face-to-face for the first time in this fanfic.

Let's see how well Eragon can concentrate on fighting, hm? An epic battle scene to come (split into two parts as it grew to be the size of Mt. Everest).

If anyone has any questions or would just like to chat about Eragon, Murtagh, and them involved romantically, please feel free to e-mail me. My e-mail addy can be found on my author page.

Last thing- please review. I would love to hear your opinion on the story, as well as any tips you have for me. Trust me, pointers help. Plus, I want to see if I can break 100 reviews on this story. I got 16 on the first chapter- all you guys have to do is keep reviewing at the same rate. Reviews make me happy! (And please- spread the word! Word-of-mouth is the best advertisement!)

See you all next week!


	3. Battle

A/N: Since we seem to like this so far, here's a new chapter! Well, half of one. Chapter Three was a bit long so I split it into 2 parts. Part B will be posted nest week. In the meantime, enjoy!

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions and everything! Sadly she's moving, and won't be able to get to her computer for a while… Never fear! Unless it takes her a month, updates should still come regularly… (Chapter 3, 4, and part of 5 have been beta'd).

Also, dedicated to all my friends (that'd be you, reading this right now) since you all have inspired me to keep it going!

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

And since I'm bored, review replies at the bottom of the chapter!

In Dreams III, Part A

_Content. Sleepy._

_Arms encircling him._

_Warm chest._

_Comforting heartbeat._

"_Eragon…"_

"Eragon!"

At the sound of his name, the blue Rider was pulled from dreamland into wakefulness. The sudden transition left him disoriented, and it was several minutes before he realized that there was someone in the room with him.

A tall, dark-skinned woman- obviously the one who had awoken him- was standing over his bed, her pretty face tense with apprehension and anger.

"Nasuada?" he asked in surprise- usually, the leader of the Varden did not go around to rouse others. "What's going-"

She raised her hand, indicating that she was going to tell him if he would only be quiet. The Rider shut up.

"Galbatorix's troops have been seen not two miles up ahead. I don't know how they knew we were using this castle as a base, but..." Nasuada shrugged helplessly. Eragon cursed under his breath, rolling out of the bed and heading straight for his armor.

The abandoned castle had once belonged to a long-dead king of Alagaesia- it had probably been some sort of summer home, and had been a good distance from Uru'baen. They had thought themselves safe- the castle even had an escape route out the back they could use to get to the forest nearby. There had been a thick layer of dust on everything, but it was obviously abandoned and therefore made a perfect hiding place.

They had only just arrived as well- impossible that Galbatorix had just figured out where they were hiding. Someone must have seen...

Or someone in the Varden had told Galbatorix.

"Do we know how many men he sent?" Eragon asked, pulling his armored shirt on and fastening it tightly around his torso. Quickly, he strapped on his gauntlets, shin guards, and the rest of the armor gifted to him by the dwarves.

"No- only that we're far outnumbered." A pained look crossed her pretty face then, obviously troubled by the thought that many of her people would die. "Those too young and too old to fight have retreated to the woods. All of the soldiers we brought with are preparing, and several messengers have been sent to any place close by that supports our cause. Hopefully, we will have reinforcements, but they won't get here for hours yet."

"Have you sent word to the elves?" Eragon bent and picked up his sword, quiver, and elven bow. He cinched the sword around his waist and slung the quiver and bow over his shoulder.

"Arya left the second we got word." Nasuada turned towards the door, shoulders shaking with emotion. "If we had come with more soldiers, instead of just over half... if we had made it a full-scale move, instead of moving only a few of us..."

"You couldn't have known this would happen." Eragon instantly replied, seeing where she was going. It would do no good for the newly elected leader of the Varden to go to pieces blaming herself.

"I should have expected it. That is a leader's duty to her people." Nasuada sighed tiredly. "You need to call Saphira so we can get her armored as well." Eragon nodded.

The young leader of the Varden left, most likely to prepare herself for the upcoming clash.

Eragon listened as her footsteps died away, the silence following eerie and cold.

He ignored the ominous feeling and opened his mind, reaching out to touch his dragon. It wasn't long before the familiar, warm brush of Saphira's mind met his. Her mind instantly recognized his mental presence, opening to allow mental communication.

(Saphira? Where are you? ) he asked. (Have you seen what's happening?)

(I'm not far- I found a clearing large enough to rest in for the night.) Saphira responded, then her voice went heavy with worry. (Is something the matter? I haven't seen anything- did something happen?)

Eragon ordered her to begin heading for the castle, but to try and stay out of sight. As she moved closer, he began filling her in.

He could feel her anger rising as he explained the situation.

(So, not only do we have a traitor, we must keep the soldiers from entering the woods with a much smaller force, with no reinforcements for hours. Assuming, of course, any come. ) Saphira went quiet and contemplative, her anger simmering for a moment. (Eragon, it's too dangerous-)

(I will not abandon them, Saphira.) he warned her. (If you're planning on flying away with me- like you did when Garrow died- then I'll fight on the ground.)

He could sense her frustration and her fear. As much as the thought of dying scared him, he knew that he could not abandon the Varden.

(Fine, but you will fight from my back.) Saphira replied. Eragon didn't argue.

He headed from his room, trying to ignore one nagging thought that had burst into existence the moment he had heard about Galbatorix's soldiers. As much as he tried to quash it, it persisted, causing an odd mix of fear, anticipation, and sorrow to churn his stomach.

Nasuada hadn't said anything directly, but Galbatorix had never sent his soldiers against the Varden without sending a certain someone to face Eragon. To not send the only Rider he had at his command would basically be forfeiting the battle, no matter how greatly his troops outnumbered those of the Varden.

His heart fluttered. He attempted to calm it, but it defied him and made his whole body feel strangely light.

'Murtagh's here.'

**Insert Line**

Eragon moved quickly down the steps, heading for the door to the back where he knew Saphira waited.

It was almost time- Galbatorix's troops had not moved forward, apparently knowing that their presence had been realized. They were waiting for the Varden to come to them.

'They know they have us cornered.' Eragon thought, a trace of bitterness and resentment coloring his voice. There was no way to escape safely through the forest with enemy forces so close- if they had only brought up their army, and left those useless as warriors behind...

But what was done was done. There was no way to change it now.

He reached the bottom, heading across the stone floor. His boots clacked loudly, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall loudly.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what was to come, he reached the large wooden doors and pushed them open as he stepped into the sunlight.

Eragon blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight of early morning. While inside it had been as cold, dark, and empty as a tomb, outside it was bustling with activity.

Several soldiers were sharpening weapons; many were still getting on armor. A commander was directing some of the men, while the rest of the obviously battle-hardened veterans were giving tips to soldiers fresh from training.

Eragon had to look away- quite a few of the boys listening were obviously terrified, and most were a year or two younger than he was. He had known that the Varden was short on soldiers, but- despite the small gap in age- they just seemed so young to Eragon.

He spied Nasuada crouched down in the dirt with several dwarf chieftains and one Urgal chief, obviously discussing strategy.

There were frequent disagreements in the group, at least judging by the way glares were being exchanged at regular intervals. The only thing that broke the rounds of glares was a new round of hushed whispering.

He continued to scan the camp, moving aside for soldiers as they ran from one place to the next, making sure they were as ready as they could be.

'No one is ever completely ready for war.'

A flash of blue caught his eye, off to his left. He smiled thinly and turned, heading in the direction of the magnificent blue dragon.

She was easily as big as a large hill, but despite her huge size she was extremely graceful and sleek. Her bulk was pure muscle. Her wings were twice the size of her body, but they seemed to enhance her reptilian beauty instead of make her seem awkward. Sapphire scales gleamed brightly in the morning sun, covering her from talon to tail.

As he neared her, she turned to face him. Even though her features were reptilian and thus unable to express emotion, she was radiating disapproval and worry.

Even with her misgivings written on her face, she lowered her head for him to rest his hand on the armor protecting her skull. That small sign was enough to tell Eragon that she would follow his wishes.

(I still do not think this is a good idea.) she told him.

"I know." he replied out loud. "But we're the Varden's best hope for surviving this."

(I know.) Saphira replied, irritated. (I don't have to like it.)

The sound of hurried footsteps approached. The blue Rider turned, Saphira raising her head to determine if the person approaching was a threat or not.

A messenger- a man with red hair in a long braid down his back- ran up to Eragon, leaning over to brace his hands on his knees, panting with exhaustion. The brunette waited for the other to catch his breath, certain of what the message would be but wanting to hold onto the odd peace that existed between himself and Saphira for a little longer.

All too soon, the messenger caught his breath. He straightened and stood at attention.

"Sir, Lady Nasuada wants me to inform you that we're moving soon. She wants you to report to her as soon as possible."

"Thank you. Dismissed." The man saluted and turned, running off to complete some other errand Nasuada had probably sent him on.

Brown eyes met blue.

(Get on my back.) Saphira told him firmly. (Now's the best time to strap your legs in, and if Galbatorix's troops do move...)

(In other words, it would make you feel better.)

Saphira was quiet for a moment.

(Yes.)

The Rider walked around to the blue dragon's side, hoisting himself up and quickly strapping his legs down so he wouldn't fall while flying and fighting.

"Let's go then." Saphira snorted, but was much more at ease now that the brunette was on her back. She began walking at an easy pace, moving around the busy section so she disrupted the constant flow of people as little as possible. Eragon scanned the crowd, trying to spot Nasuada, as the messenger hadn't left any information in regards to finding her.

He was spared from his task as she emerged from the crowd, a grim expression on her face.

"Do we have a strategy?" Eragon asked as she approached, knowing they had no time for formalities. She nodded.

"Basically, you fly over our men and try to fry as many of the enemy as possible when not in immediate danger from their Rider. Our archers will try to cover you and Saphira, but their main task will be to fire at the front lines. The archers will be in trees, on top of the castle, as well as on the ground. Hopefully, most of them will be killed by the time they reach the ground fighters." Nasuada smiled grimly.

"Galbatorix must also be running low on magicians- they only have one besides Murtagh and we have three, including you. That is our only advantage."

Eragon nodded in understanding. Two members of the Du Vrangr Gata had accompanied them, and that could be their edge.

"Lady Nasuada!" Another messenger- a girl with brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail- ran up and saluted quickly. "The men are ready to move, and await your signal." Nasuada nodded, absently dismissing the girl with a wave of her hand.

The blue Rider didn't even need to be told what to do. Urging Saphira on, both man and dragon rose into the air and flew towards their front lines. Saphira roared loudly- a battle cry, proud and fierce.

They were ready to fight, and they were coming.

**Insert Line**

It was a sick moment of anticipation- fear as well as bile rose up in every soldier.

The Varden was moving, closing the gap between the two forces, but stopping many yards before the enemy. Far above even the tallest soldiers head, two people- like forces of nature in their own right- faced off.

Eragon held his drawn sword before him, heart beating fast as his eyes scanned the sky before him. He willed his heart to slow down to a normal pace, but it continued racing.

A red dragon hovered over Galbatorix's soldiers, shooting threatening trails of smoke from his nostrils. The male dragon was only slightly smaller than Saphira, but was much stronger and of a stockier build than she was. A long row of white spikes ran down his neck- from previous encounters, Eragon knew the sharp points ran all the way down the dragon's spine, but currently most were blocked by the Rider perched on the ruby dragon's back.

Murtagh was clad all in black, as usual. He held Za'roc out, the blades color the same shade as Thorn's scales as it glinted in the sunlight. A small smirk tugged at pale lips- even if the brunette couldn't see the exact expression, he knew the other Rider well enough to picture it.

It was oddly thrilling to go into battle against his brother. In a fight to the death, you could only focus on your opponent. That fight was your world until either you or your opponent died.

_Eyes that only saw him._

_Emotions meant only for him._

"So we meet again, brother." Murtagh articulated coldly, a bare hint of dry amusement in his voice. "Galbatorix is tired of waiting. I warned you that next time we meet, I would not show you mercy."

_"Eragon..."_

_Pale skin._

_Warm kiss._

Shaking himself soundly, Eragon shoved the disturbingly enticing images away from his mind. Those thoughts had no place in his life and no place on a battlefield of all things.

"I will show you none, either." he responded. A laugh drifted over the tense, silent field. Shivering slightly, Eragon recalled the first time he had met the red Rider- it had been the same resigned, sad laugh, but now there was a great deal of pain added into the mix.

"Then let it begin, brother."

Murtagh motioned his soldiers forward, raising Za'roc high and snapping the blade forward. As one, the body of red uniformed soldiers below him surged towards the Varden.

For a moment, Eragon was sure the men would panic, but then a rain of arrows flew towards the enemy line. As each arrow found it's mark, the targets fell, either dead, dying, or in severe pain.

More men fell as the next volley rained from the archers. More fell, screaming.

(Eragon!)

Eragon jerked his head up in time to see Murtagh speeding towards him, blade aimed for his throat. Mentally cursing himself for being distracted, Eragon blocked, wincing at the screech of metal as the two swords connected.

The red Rider tried pressing his advantage, but Eragon gritted his teeth and shoved the heavy weight of his brother away from him.

Below him, he could hear the screams of the dying and battle cries of the wounded. Knowing that they were severely outnumbered, the brunette commanded Saphira to dive. She did, a blue stream of flames issuing from her throat as she swooped low over the fighting soldiers.

Some died instantly, while others screamed in pained as their flesh literally melted off their bones. A few seconds was all the time Eragon had- his brother came diving after him, Thorn's powerful wings slowly gaining on Saphira.

The blue dragon roared in pain as the ruby beast caught her tail with his teeth. Thorn pulled, trying to knock Saphira out of the air so she would literally crush any human unfortunate enough to be underneath her.

Growling, Saphira bent in half and snapped at Murtagh with her sharp teeth. The ruby dragon let go, snapping his head back to protect his Rider.

Saphira shot straight up, getting out of range of either Thorn's tooth or claw before Murtagh could follow.

(Are you all right?) Eragon asked, looking back and squinting to see if he could tell how bad the damage was.

All he could see was red blood falling in a trail behind them, and Murtagh close behind.

(I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, concentrate on the fight! )

Saphira dove again, turning around to come straight back up at Thorn's unprotected underbelly.

The red dragon twisted, but that didn't bring the Rider out of range of Eragon's sword. He swung, only to be blocked by Za'roc. As his sword clanged off the metal, Eragon twisted his wrist to bring the sharp edge down on his brother's head.

He was blocked again.

Murtagh threw the blade off, throwing Eragon off balance. While the blue Rider recovered, Murtagh aimed a straight thrust for the brunette's heart.

Sensing the danger to her Rider, Saphira rolled away from Thorn. The red Rider missed his brother's heart by seconds. To allow Eragon more time to recover, Saphira flew to the far side of the field.

A bomb exploded somewhere below them. Smoke bloomed from the spot, the air quickly becoming cloudy and visibility nearing zero.

Eragon coughed, the unexpected addition to the air irritating the delicate tissue. Saphira quickly flew out of the black cloud, spinning around to face the ruby dragon that should have been right behind them.

Nothing.

Saphira and Eragon both stared intently at the black cloud, searching for any sign of red scales. Nothing.

Frowning, Eragon looked from side to side- maybe Thorn had gone around?

There was a sudden rush of air to his left. Turning as much as the saddle allowed, he saw the red dragon and Rider diving in from above.

TBC

A/N: And there's where we end it for this week. Sorry about the cliffie, but they're fun!

Hopefully this chapter was easy to understand- I tried to explain WHY Eragon didn't mind fighting his brother, but I'm not sure if it came across right… or if I made him seem as reluctant to embrace his homosexuality as in chapter one…

Hey, it was a battle. He doesn't really have time to be focusing on things like his orientation or stewing over it. (But his mind provides him with plenty of distractions… Can't have the slash disappear completely. Hopefully the small imaginings weren't out of place…)

And so far, the battle doesn't seem to be going so well for poor Eragon…

Next week: The battle ends. Duh.

…That's all. Really. Trust me… (Cheshire cat grin, check!)

And here are your review replies! (First time I've done these… If you don't see your name here, it's probably because these are just the reviews for Chapter 2. If you reviewed chapter 1, then I didn't even think about replying to those last week- sorry!)

**angels.on.strike**- So glad you like it so far! That's always good to hear… I hope you enjoyed this just as much, and will continue enjoying it!

**Sockz**- Honestly, I don't know. I'm leaning towards it, but I probably won't focus much- if at all- on Saphira and Thorn. So far, those two have managed to keep their private lives out of my fic, but then again I've only just begun… We'll see how it goes.

**daydreamin' angel**- I know I'm mean for keeping the next part from you all for another week, but I never claimed to be nice… (smiles). I hope you liked this installment!

**Kaylen**- It's fine if you want to ignore the incest- if you can. I don't try to bring up the fact that Eragon and Murtagh are brothers (other than to torture Eragon…), but I don't ignore it either. As they interact more, it may be harder to ignore it. Hopefully you like it anyway!

**Anonymous**- Who doesn't like slash? Well, what SANE person doesn't like it…

**Lekarsha**- Thanks for the compliment on my characterization! I tried, but I never know how well I'm succeeding… Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Sakura evil twin of Sango**- Nice name, by the way! (I actually have a twin sister in reality, though I don't like to linger in the realm of realism…) Was this soon enough?

**Gloria Monday**- Yayz indeed! They're so cute together- was I to resist the underlying slashiness? Thanks for calling the story 'sexy', but I can assure you it gets better…

**bleedingRose11**- There aren't enough MurEra fics. (smiles) If it's any consolation, I think I kept most of the other main characters straight… Hope you liked this chapter!

**Mantineus**- Keep the dreams? Got it- I don't know if I could erase them completely from the fabric of this fic if I tried… The dreams come less frequently, but there are still quite a few in the future!

**Mercury Bohemian**- As usual, the longest review this chapter! (huggles) Thank you so much- long reviews are rare treats! I love to read rambles, so long as they are somehow connected to the story. I'm extremely pleased that you liked the last chapter- I hope you enjoyed this one just as much! It also makes me happy I'm up to your expectations- hopefully I will continue to write up to your standards…

**Geek Squared 1307**- My writing style is good? That's great to hear- I want to write for a living, and I can't very well do that if my writing is awful, now can I? So happy you like it! (And I figured that I had to have one of them more open to the idea- and besides, it just seemed to fit Murtagh, from what I remember him to be.)

**InsaneBlackHeart-** You probably won't be able to wait for the next one either, right? Sorry- one more week and the next part of Chapter 3 will be out! (I know what you mean though- I can't wait to see everyone's reaction on chapters 4 and 5! Speaking of 5, I'd best get cracking…)

**Aisling-Siobhan**- I thought it was only fair- since you liked Chapter 1, I thought you'd like to know I was continuing it. (I know I would have wanted to be told, instead of finding out months later…) I'm glad I did PM you!

**FangedWriter**- No apologies needed! I'm just glad you enjoyed this! (And alert backups can be terrifying, when you have enough of them…)

That's all for now! Much love everyone!


	4. Capture

A/N: Here is the second part of Chapter 3! I know we all wanted to see how the battle ended. There is a really long author's note just before we get to the action, but the author's note is actually not so much a note as a satire. Please read (note: for those of you offended by satire, please do not read the following.).

News! I have received my first flame on this fanfic! (This flamer- going by the name of 'The Gnomes', though OF COURSE they didn't sign their screenname as he/she/it/they is/are (a) hideous coward(s)- has also flamed my other MurtaghEragon fic 'Bowling'. I have posted and dissected both flames.)

Please read the following for the dissection of the flames (because I'm also bored and psychotic, I've decided to use this as an educational experience):

The Gnomes wrote (I copied and pasted- all mistakes are their own and not mine): 'We didn't actually read this fic, but we're bored and psycotic, but we hate it anyway, you sick freak. Seriously.'

And for 'Bowling'- please check it out, it's a cute AU one-shot I wrote!- here's the flame: 'Ok, firstly, that was rubbish. Do they even have bowling alleys in Alagaesia? They're brothers, you moron, that's sick, it's sick and wrong. Do you not get it? There may not be laws against incest in unpronounciableasia, but in the known world at any rate, it is perverted. You are clearly derranged. And what the hell is wrong with Arya? She actually WANTS them to get together? Bleugh! OK, Arya's insanity aside... no wait, seriously, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? Honestly. Fool. We hate you!'

I know they won't be reading this (what dirty hypocrites they would be! I mean, they didn't even read the first three chapters!) but if they are, this is for them! Being bored and having a mental problem (my guess: schizophrenia, not being 'psycotic'- do you think they meant 'psychotic'?) is no reason to go and put other people down. I'm sorry you felt so inadequate and had such low self-esteem that you were pushed to find an Eragon slash fanfic to flame- therapy not going well? You poor dear(s)…

Me being sick? Oh, nonsense. I'm perfectly healthy- thank you for worrying!

Freak? Defined as… 'not normal', correct? Well, of course I'm not normal- it's all relative anyway! I thank you for the compliment! People are so dull when they're normal…

Now for the second flame! (To understand some of this, you may need to read 'Bowling', but I think it's funny in any case!)

No- they wouldn't have bowling alleys in Alagaesia. Nor would they have T-shirts, soda, jeans, cars, pizza, or any of the other modern items I mentioned! How observant of you to notice! I thought that would slip by all of you- too bad you missed one small thing. You did know that 'AU' means 'alternate universe', correct? Meaning that they CAN be at a bowling alley, since I moved them to modern times?

They're brothers? I'm a moron? GASP! (Well, I knew the first one, but my 5.6 GPA and class schedule of AP and Honors courses would disagree with you on that second part…)

'Derranged'? Is that like deranged?

Arya? Insane? Really? I think she takes offense…

What was I thinking? Well, I was watching this real-life version of Snow White, when I saw the Prince teaching Snow White how to bowl. I thought it was cute, and since Eragon was on my mind… One thing lead to another, and suddenly I had this great idea for a one-shot in which Murtagh would teach Eragon how to bowl!

Fool? Like a jester in the king's court? Oh, please, your praise makes me blush! I am not nearly funny enough to have such an honor as to entertain kings and queens!

'We hate you'? Well, I love you too! (But, more seriously, what did I ever do to you? Did I accidentally kill your pet rock? I'm so sorry! Was it because I posted something online that you didn't agree with? A thousand apologies- I should have known that since someone wouldn't agree I never should have written anything! Oh, forgive this lowly one, I beg of you!)

Satire over. That is what I do to flames, in case anyone reading this would like to flame me. I do not want to get angry with people, so instead I turn it into a funny yet educational experience. I have done this before when another slash fic of mine was flamed- I do hope I will not have to worry about senseless hate mail and flames after this.

Thank you.

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc and the other random OCs through the story. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Anyway, that's enough of my chit-chat! Enjoy.

**Last week:**

Frowning, Eragon looked from side to side- maybe Thorn had gone around?

There was a sudden rush of air to his left. Turning as much as the saddle allowed, he saw the red dragon and Rider diving in from above.

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions

Italics: _dreams or imaginings._

Note: words from the ancient language (since there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to how they're spelled) will be translated at the end of the chapter. I had to look them up- does he just mash the keyboard to spell some of these? Honestly…

And- same as last week- review replies at the end!

**In Dreams III, Part B**

The brunette just barely had time to jerk to his right and avoid a fatal blow from Za'roc, but the sharp blade pierced through the thin covering he had on his upper arm, cutting a deep gash.

Murtagh's momentum carried him clear of Saphira before Thorn spun to move back for another attack.

Lifting his wounded arm, Eragon snarled.

"Brisingr!" Blue flames shot from his arm, heading directly for his opponent.

"Skolir!" Murtagh returned, sweeping his free arm in a large motion across his body. Less than an inch from Thorn's nose, the fire split to go harmlessly off to either side.

Not waiting for Murtagh to come after him, Eragon and Saphira dove towards their enemy. There was only time to register the surprised look on Murtagh's face as Eragon struck.

His sword connected, catching the weak part of his brother's armor at the shoulder and drawing a long gash down his chest.

The metal armor had split around his blade, but the density of the armor drew Eragon's arm to a halt. Murtagh roared in pain, Thorn jerking back and then shooting upwards to give his Rider time to regroup.

'If he hadn't been wearing the armor, such a blow would have cut him in two.'

Saphira gave chase, viciously enjoying her new position as hunter instead of hunted.

In front of them, the red dragon suddenly spun and went on the offensive. Not expecting the sudden turnabout, Saphira couldn't stop herself in time and flew directly into Thorn's talons. She hissed in pain as the sharp nails pierced through the armor and tore it from her body, the talons drawing deep cuts in her flesh before she could claw her way out.

They circled each other warily, neither dragon wanting to make the first move.

Suddenly, Murtagh's eyes fixed on a spot on the ground. Before Eragon could react, Thorn dove.

Following their path with his eyes, the brunette gasped in horror as he saw their target.

Nasuada was fighting with only two of the five-man guard she had started the battle with. Dead bodies littered the ground around her, and more were coming.

Saphira dove after Thorn, straining and pushing herself as fast as she could go to try and stop the ruby dragon.

Nasuada turned, looking up into the sky as the red dragon barreled in. She seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move.

Thorn's mouth opened, releasing an ear-splitting cry.

With a last burst of speed, Saphira reached one of the other dragon's back legs. She sunk her teeth into the flesh, whipping her head to the side to throw Thorn off of his intended course.

The ruby dragon shrieked, thrown off balance and in pain. Just feet over the hard ground, he rolled in the air. Any soldiers close by hit the ground as soon as they saw the large body heading for them, but others were tossed high into the air. These less fortunate soldiers- Empire and Varden alike- landed with sickening 'thwacks' on the ground. None moved after that.

The sapphire dragon followed Thorn as he started trying to gain altitude again. She pulled up right beside her wounded enemy, powerful jaws snapping at Thorn's neck.

Thorn was forced to roll again to avoid the attack, but just as he rolled, Eragon was striking.

His blade did not meet the intended target- Murtagh's neck- but it sliced cleanly through the ties holding one of Murtagh's legs onto the dragon. With one leg loose, the ruby dragon's roll threw his Rider off.

Lucky for the red Rider, he did not have far to fall.

Soldiers ran out of the way, clearing a large area for the Rider so that the falling body didn't injure them.

Murtagh grunted with pain, rolling as he hit the ground. Za'roc flew out of his hand, hitting the ground several feet from the injured man. Thorn was right behind him, having moved to land the second his Rider's weight left his back. Saphira landed as well, Eragon cutting himself free. He could fix the straps later, but he couldn't afford giving Murtagh time to recover.

He slid out of the saddle, racing towards his opponent to catch him off guard. Murtagh- in the process of painfully pushing himself to his feet- reached into his boot, drawing the small concealed dagger he always carried. He blocked Eragon's blow, gaze darting to Za'roc and then back.

Eragon also shot a glance at the red blade, smiling as he and Murtagh realized the same thing- it was too far. The pale Rider would not be able to reach it, not with Eragon blocking him.

Cursing, the red Rider pushed off against his brother, both men stumbling back. Murtagh raised a shaky arm, breathing heavily.

"Malthinae!" he cried. Instantly, Eragon felt his legs begin to freeze as Murtagh darted for Za'roc.

Eragon extended his hand towards his brother, feeling his magic run through his arm.

"Jierda!" Murtagh fell forward, as if he had been struck in the back of his head. Still, he reached for his sword.

"Brakka du vanyali sem huildar eka!" Eragon felt the magic holding him dissipate- he ran forward, ignoring Thorn's battle cry above him. He could see a blue blur dashing forward- above him, red and blue met in a fierce struggle as both dragons sought to protect their Riders on the ground.

Murtagh tried to scramble to his feet again, but had dropped his dagger as he had fallen. He stumbled forward, desperate to reach his weapon before Eragon caught him.

"Jierda!" Eragon's hand came up again, magic racing down his arm.

Not looking back, Murtagh's arm made a sweeping motion behind his body.

"Skolir!"

The magic hit the shield and split, and that second was all the time Murtagh needed to reach Za'roc. Eragon was just a foot from his brother when Murtagh spun, sword slashing in a circle. Eragon stumbled back, bringing his blade up as Murtagh pressed forward.

The screech of metal on metal sounded as the two blades met again and again as the two men fought. Blocking a strike to his neck, Eragon shot forward with a straight thrust aimed for Murtagh's stomach.

The black-clad Rider twisted, avoiding the blow by millimeters and striking towards his brother's side. Eragon leapt back, then forward with a strike towards Murtagh's waist to try and cleave him in two.

Blocking that, Murtagh faced Eragon and brought Za'roc up to strike down at the brunette's head. Simultaneously, Eragon tried a sideways strike to Murtagh's neck.

The two blades met, neither connecting to their true targets.

Both men strained, faces inches from each other as both tried to press forward. Eragon braced his sword with his other hand, blade cutting deep into his palm as he pushed against the sharp red metal.

Sweat ran down their faces, both breathing heavily. Murtagh leaned in closer, trying to put all of his weight behind the strike.

They were so close; Eragon could feel his brother's warm breath on his face, so close that he could make out every little detail of the pale face of the other Rider.

_Pant._

_Gasp._

_"Eragon..."_

Eragon cursed as he felt his arms go weak, his distraction giving Murtagh enough advantage to bring his fatal strike down.

He pushed forward, tackling his brother in a move unexpected by either combatant. The brunette pinned the red Rider to the ground, one hand grabbing his brother's wrist- the one connected to the hand clutching Za'roc- while the other held his blade point at the hollow of Murtagh's throat.

The battle around them froze.

"Drop... your sword." Eragon panted out, squeezing the pressure points on his brother's wrist. Murtagh glared, hand trying to hold onto his weapon defiantly, but his fingers went limp and the red blade tumbled out of his hand.

The clatter it made seemed loud on the suddenly silent battlefield.

Then everything happened at once.

Eragon could hear the sound of footsteps as the soldiers ran from the lost battle. The people of the Varden gave a mighty cry as their enemies fled, their victorious shouts ringing across the field. No one gave chase to the retreating enemy- even though they had won, Eragon knew there had been a terrible cost.

All that he would realize later. For the moment, all he was conscious of was the hard body beneath him and angry hazel eyes glaring into his own.

_Pressure._

_Gentle hands._

_Soft reassurances._

_"Eragon..."_

**Insert Line**

It was several minutes before Nasuada reached the brothers. Eragon had not moved, not allowing his arm to shake at all, lest it give Murtagh an escape route.

Thorn had backed down the second Murtagh had been completely at his mercy, Saphira guarding him.

The battle was completely over- now all that was left to decide was the enemy Rider's fate.

Several more members of the Varden surrounded them. Nasuada picked Za'roc up from the ground, handing it to one of her guards so the red Rider could not grab it and attempt escape.

Slowly, Eragon moved his weight off his defeated opponent as more blades were trained on his brother. Murtagh rose as well, but, weaponless, he was at their mercy.

Exhausted, Eragon stumbled to take his place right behind Nasuada. Several people clapped him on his back, but he was too tired to respond to the congratulations.

As soon as Murtagh's fate was decided he would need rest, but he couldn't bring himself to leave until the judgement was passed.

Nasuada and the red Rider stared coldly at each other for several moments before the leader of the Varden spoke.

"You have committed many heinous crimes under Galbatorix." she uttered, her voice wavering slightly. "For these you should be killed."

Her face hardened, eyes reddening slightly as she recalled every man, woman, and child that had been killed since Murtagh had betrayed them.

"And you shall b-"

"NO!"

All eyes turned to look at him. Eragon's mouth suddenly went dry.

Why should he protest Murtagh's execution? His brother had tried to kill him- indeed, he himself had even tried to kill Murtagh.

But something inside him- something he constantly denied- had protested very strongly, and the word had burst from his mouth before he could stop it. He put a hand to his throat, swallowing nervously in an attempt to gain the strength needed to talk.

"He isn't a willing servant of the king." he heard himself say. "I know that there is good inside of him- if we can free him from Galbatorix's control-"

He heard the crowd burst into murmurs- some outraged, some confused- but ignored them. He swallowed again, carefully not looking at his brother as he ploughed on.

"He could be a powerful ally."

He looked at Nasuada, seeing emotions play over her face as she weighed the pros and cons. Several people voiced their opinions- most, he noted with a sinking heart- that Murtagh was an enemy and should be dealt with accordingly.

Execution.

After several minutes that felt more like an eternity to the brunette, Nasuada spoke again.

"Eragon." she voiced, her soft voice carrying over the mutterings of the crowd. "Are you absolutely certain that Murtagh is not serving Galbatorix of his own will?"

Eragon nodded tensely, feeling numerous sets of eyes bore into him. He shifted uncomfortably, watching Nasuada as she turned back to the figure held at swordpoint by several of the Varden's warriors.

"Is that true?"

"It is. Vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." Murtagh replied, tone betraying not a trace of emotion.

Shock traveled through the crowd again, more excited mutterings breaking out. Eragon tensed further as Nasuada contemplated the words.

Finally, Nasuada seemed to reach a decision. She lifted her hand to signal for quiet.

"Then, Murtagh, you will be kept bound, in a cell under twenty-four hour guard without access to any of your weapons- that includes Thorn-"

Above her, the massive dragon growled angrily, but shut up when Saphira snapped at him. The ruby dragon was clearly discontent, but made no more signs of his unrest.

"- until we can free you from Galbatorix's control. You are not to use magic under any circumstances, and will have your magic bound. To try and use any spells will be grounds for execution on the spot. If we can free you, then you will be on probation until your loyalty is proven- no hostility of any sort against any member of the Varden will be tolerated. If we cannot free you, then you will be executed for our protection." She paused for breath. "Is that understood?"

She left his second choice unstated- it was quite obvious to all listening that he could either be killed now or go with the terms set.

Eragon couldn't see it, but Murtagh must have nodded, for next Nasuada said:

"Good. Kent, Raof." Two burly guards stepped forward, dwarfing their leader, but bowing respectfully to her nonetheless.

"Trianna."

The magician stepped forward, her long dark hair framing her face and falling to her slim waist. She nodded respectfully.

"I want you three to bind his magic, find and remove any other weapons he may be hiding..."

Her voice faded into background noise for Eragon as he sagged slightly in relief. He stumbled back a bit, blood loss catching up with him. He was woozy.

'I need a medic...' Blinking he looked up at the feel of eyes on him.

Brown eyes met hazel.

Eragon found himself unable to look away as the two large guards grabbed Murtagh and dragged him away. Trianna followed with a look of distaste on her proud features.

The group passed right by Eragon, Murtagh's eyes not leaving Eragon's as the group of four headed back to the castle the Varden had used as a base.

Finally, they disappeared from sight.

The crowd buzzed with noise again- Eragon could feel eyes looking at him curiously again, but ignored them. Troubled, he stumbled over to Saphira, leaning against her side as he tried to clear his mind of his churning thoughts. Bad thoughts that he wanted to will away, but couldn't.

Thorn growled angrily at him, but he ignored it. Thorn couldn't- and wouldn't- do anything with his Rider under their control.

His Rider…

Saphira looked at him with concern.

(Are you all right? Eragon? )

He nodded weakly.

(I think I need a medic.)

He could feel her concern morph into panic at how weak his voice sounded.

(Eragon?)

He blinked, sleepy for no discernable reason. Vaguely, he could feel the caked blood around his shoulder and the warm crimson liquid flowing down his arm and chest.

'It's still bleeding so heavily?' he thought muzzily. He blinked again as the world pitched sideways.

(Eragon!)

He barely felt his body hit the ground, only vaguely hearing several people call his name out with concern.

His eyes closed as he fell into blessed darkness, unconsciousness taking his mind some place far, far away.

TBC

Ancient Language 

Brisingr- fire

Skolir- shield

Malthinae- confine, bind

Jierda- hit, break

Brakka du vanyali sem huildar eka- reduce the magic that holds me

Vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal- Upon my word as a Rider.

A/N: So… how many of you KNEW this would happen? Anyone?

Hopefully we all liked this- I should have Chapter 4 for you all next week. See you then! (Hopefully, no more of mine will go on forever… but I didn't want to cut any of it out! Was the battle scene okay? How'd it go?)

And yes, again Eragon wasn't as angsty and moping over him being gay as chapter 1, but again, battle-ness. I tried to keep it in there and make mention of it. Did it work?

Next week: Second longest chapter written thus far, and we get to see Murtagh being brutally tortured!

Not really.

We do get to have some fun with him for a little bit though! See you all then.

Reviews! (I love you all!)

**Matineus**- First reviewer for Chapter Three A! Congrats! And I'm glad you enjoyed the first half of the battle- I tried!

**Sakura evil twin of Sango**- Go crazy? I think it's too late… (Sorry- always wanted to say that…) Was this chapter soon enough and good enough, Sakura?

**Narya**- Glad you like it thus far! And hopefully this fic is less transparent than Paolini's books…

**Shadow ShiningPalm**- I'm glad you think they're IC! (And they could be bi, so even the slashiness could be IC… I'm sure Paolini never exactly intended THIS, but slash fans can hope, can't we?) And they are so destined for each other…

**daydreamin' angel**- Trust me- slash comes. I can't very well end this until what I have in mind occurs… I know that was vague, but I really shouldn't give details… You'll see when the time comes, but the slashiness escalates. I may even do a sidefic (if I ever get time) that wouldn't be posted on this site…

**JsyGirl**- Thanks for the compliment and the favorite! I've had a few people compliment me on how I'm handling the whole homophobia thing- I've always wanted to write a fanfic with homophobes, if only so I could give them what they deserve, a few good kicks in the- Well, you get the idea! I'm trying to be as realistic as I can without sacrificing the storyline or characterization, so I have to juggle so I don't make anyone seem OOC…

**TVaddictt**- Your review made me feel so special! (huggles) I'm glad the flow is good- writing with a ton of detail is difficult when you can't lose the flow either… And I was never really sure about the whole incest thing either, but I figure so long as they really love each other and they don't procreate, it's not like it's hurting anyone. No one chooses who they fall in love with, ne? Plus, I'm also obsessed with how love is love is love, and I couldn't resist slashing the two hottest guys in Eragon together. (Gasps) My motives have been revealed… But seriously, thanks for telling me I wrote it like it was a natural thing! I've seen some fanfics for some fandoms that basically toss the two characters together, and you may as well have fed them both Love Potions or hit them with a love spell for how IC they act… you barely recognize them! It's best when an author manages to keep the characters IC and have them be in love… it seems almost like it could really happen…

**Geek Squared 1307**- Glad you liked watching our boys duke it out! I hope the conclusion of the fight was just as enjoyable as the beginning!

**Gloria Monday**- I know there wasn't anything right where Murtagh was diving in, hopefully the part where he got captured made up for it? I'm glad the fight scene was good- since you admitted you usually don't follow them, I guess the fighting was just that good!

**Not-Obsessed-With-Itachi**- Love the name! (I have a minor in Itachi Fangirlism, and have a major in Gaara Fangirlism… Some random facts about me!) I'm so glad you enjoyed 'Always' as well! I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!


	5. Sealed

A/N: This ended up being long as well- I had to split this up too. If I didn't, it would be way too long. I also decided to post this early because I have almost nothing to do… except do homework, but who wants to do that?

Enjoy- and please remember that I love Murtagh to death while reading this chapter. Honestly, he's my favorite character- but that doesn't mean I can't be mean to him too… (insert evil laugh here.)

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc and the other random OCs through the story. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Now remember, no killing the authoress!

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions and everything- you all must worship her, because this would not be nearly as good without her! Also dedicated to all my reviewers out there! I love you all!

Italics: _dreams or imaginings _(which we see little of in this chapter, unfortunately.)

Ancient language translated at the end of the chapter.

**In Dreams IV, Part A**

Murtagh's feet dragged on the ground as the two large men on either side of him pulled him. They weren't being very gentle, and he was certain he would have bruises on his arms from their rough handling, but that was acceptable.

He was alive.

That had been much more than he had expected- the second he had been thrown from Thorn, he had known that he would lose. The ground had not been very welcoming or kind as he had struck it, and pain had radiated from every part of his body upon contact. He was certain that he had fractured something, and his chest was still bleeding, though the flow had slowed to a mere trickle.

The exhaustion from magic use was also beginning to catch up to him, fatigue and weariness settling deep into his bones.

The men holding him suddenly came to a stop. Murtagh looked up in confusion, taking in his surroundings.

They must have gone around the castle while he had been thinking- they now stood in what appeared to be the back courtyard.

Rows upon rows of small white tents had been set up, and Murtagh could see cooking pits, wooden cages used to hold animals, and multiple other signs of inhabitance.

He heard soft footsteps behind him. Turning his head, he saw the magician woman moving around the guard to his left, coming to stand in front of him with a look on her face clearly stating her opinion of him.

Low, very low.

"I do not know why Lady Nasuada spared your life." she said, distaste for him evident in the way she spat the word 'life'. "I say that we should kill you and be done with it, but fortunately for you I have no choice."

Oh yeah, she was SUCH a doll.

"I don't suppose I'd be allowed to heal myself before you seal my magic, would I?" he asked rhetorically. The woman- he was pretty sure Nasuada had called her 'Trianna'- smiled at that.

"No magic. At all. Besides," she said, laughing slightly in vicious amusement. "That wound won't kill you."

Trianna lifted her right hand. An air of intense concentration formed about her as she stared at her fingertips.

The guards holding him shifted uncomfortably.

'Probably not used to magic.' Murtagh thought. He kept his eyes on the woman's hand, blinking in surprise as a faint, pink glow began around her palm and slowly extended to include her long fingers.

She smiled, satisfied. She looked back at him, then lifted her hand and placed her palm on the center of his chest, over his armor.

"Malthinae vanyali." she said clearly. The pink glow faded slightly, but Murtagh could feel that it hadn't disappeared.

A sensation of a cold so frozen it actually burned was being forced into his body where her hands touched his armor. The frozen burning made it's way through his veins, and everywhere it spread he could feel his magic fading, as though it had been placed behind an invisible wall.

He wanted to cry out, but bit his lip as the painful sensation spread through his arms and legs. He was used to tolerating large amounts of pain- the Twins and Galbatorix had seen to that- but he was already exhausted.

His legs began shaking as the feeling swept past his knees and slowly spread out to his toes. The other magician's magic soon reached his fingers as well, stinging harshly.

The feeling crept up his neck, and it as if a thousand tiny needles were poking his exposed flesh. The sensation moved up, reaching the topmost part of his head after what seemed like an hour of prickling pain.

Finally- with one last, hellfire burn all over his body- the cold burn left, leaving him feeling completely powerless.

He sagged, no longer having the strength required to keep standing. He saw the ground rushing up to meet him as his guards nearly dropped him at the unexpected weight tugging at their arms. Just before he hit, a sharp pull on his shoulders kept him up- barely. It stung, but he was too tired to care.

They had taken his weapons- his dagger and Za'roc.

They had taken his magic.

They had taken Thorn.

But...

He was alive. That was enough for now.

Blinking slowly, he heard the woman directing the two men to place him in one of the wooden cages he had noticed earlier. He thought he heard more footsteps, but he could have been wrong- his brain was fogging up as exhaustion swallowed him.

He was only distantly aware of his legs being bound at the knees and ankles, and then his wrists tied behind his back.

His eyes closing, he felt himself being fully lifted before tossed into the cage- and he meant tossed.

He collided harshly with one of the thick wooden beams, head hitting with a dull 'crack'.

All he knew was pain before gratefully blacking out.

**Insert Line**

Hazel eyes slowly opened, then immediately closed again as pain washed over their owner.

Slowly, Murtagh opened his eyes again.

He had no way of telling how long he had been out, but apparently it had been several hours. The sun had long since set, judging from how high the moon was, and there were several large bonfires all around the camp.

He shivered- while the fires looked warm, none were close enough to warm him. Apparently the Varden had removed his armor while he had been asleep, leaving him in just his thin black shirt, pants, and boots.

Murtagh tried to sit up, wincing as he felt the rope around his wrists rub against raw skin. He quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he observed the festivities from his position on his side.

The large fires sent spirals of smoke into the dark sky. He could smell roasting meat. His stomach rumbled hungrily at the smell, dry mouth suddenly moistening. He knew the meat was probably for some sort of feast later on- he would be lucky to see even a bite of it.

'And why wouldn't they celebrate?' he thought dryly. 'One of their greatest enemies is at their mercy and they won a battle against a force much larger than theirs.'

The whole place seemed to be a bustle of activity- while many were celebrating, Murtagh also noticed that some seemed to be putting things in large boxes. It took him a minute or two to figure out what they were doing- packing up.

'Of course they can't stay here- Galbatorix knows about this place.'

Glancing around as much as he could when unable to move, he noticed that the camp seemed thinner, somehow- most of the items had probably already been packed, meaning they would be leaving early the next day.

Continuing his observations- he really didn't have much to do, except concentrate on the pain and that would only make it intensify- he noticed several things.

First, he had three visible guards stationed about his cage. Two were obviously veterans, with scars, but one seemed to be a boy his age. The younger one stared longingly at the party, while the two older warriors talked amongst themselves. None seemed overly concerned about Murtagh, but all three sat with their shields against the cage bars so Murtagh couldn't simply stab them in the back with a weapon they might have missed, and all three had their weapons in hand.

The older two sat against the 'door' to the wooden structure, one of them sitting closer to the long wall at Murtagh's back.

The youngest of the three had the other wall, the one that Murtagh faced.

Second, it seemed that more people had arrived. Murtagh blinked, then looked closer as one of the newcomers passed his cage, one with long hair the color of moonlight.

'Elves.' he realized, now easily picking the fair folk out from among the ordinary humans and dwarves. 'Must have been called as reinforcements.'

Third, not everyone seemed to be happy. Several women were huddled next to each other by the bonfire closest to him, and he could see tears running down their faces. Most clutched bloody, torn shirts to their chest, and some of the men stood close by them, staring stonily into the flames or sadly up into the night sky.

There were noticeably fewer men around the fire than women, and Murtagh didn't think it was because those men weren't mourning a lost son.

A stab of guilt went through his heart. It was one thing to know you caused suffering- it was another altogether to see the effects.

Fourth, a certain brown-haired boy was nowhere to be found.

'He could be on the other side of camp.' Murtagh thought, shifting uncomfortably. He recalled their battle, and how his blade had cut deep into Eragon's arm...

He shook his head, wincing as the action put pressure on his skull. It felt as though heavy, heavy weights had been placed next to his brain and left loose to torment him whenever he moved.

It was then his oh-so-observant guards noticed that he was awake.

"Look here, he's woken up." It was one of the older warriors, one with a long scar running across the bridge of his nose. His hair- slightly gray in parts, though he didn't look old enough to be graying quite yet- was tied back in a high ponytail, a few stubborn bangs hanging down in front of his face. He seemed almost familiar- Murtagh was certain he had seen that face before- but he couldn't recall where he had seen the other man before.

The man next to the speaker turned, as if to confirm what his partner said. Murtagh nearly wrinkled his nose.

The man had one empty eye socket, and had apparently been unable or unwilling to buy an eye patch. Small scars dotted his face, and the flesh had small pockmarks all over. He had a beard, but it was scraggly and weak.

"That he has." His voice was rougher than gravel. The guard turned to the youngest of the three. "Hey, boy, go get some bread and water for him."

He could see the teen turn, opening his mouth as if to question why he should be the one running the errand.

The man with the scar stared sternly at him, as if to say 'You're the rookie, so obey'. The boy clapped his mouth shut. He pushed himself to his feet, then without so much as a backward glance ran off to fetch the requested food.

The bearded man turned back to Murtagh.

"We was ordered to give you food. Can't say I like it tho'."

Murtagh was saved from having to respond by the quick return of his dark-haired guard. The older guards stood, letting the teen through the door as the tray wouldn't fit through the bars. The other teen had no visible scars, but a hard set to his jaw and one of the coldest pairs of green eyes he had ever seen.

The boy quickly placed the food tray down a foot from Murtagh's face- so quickly the small chunk of bread nearly fell off the wood into the musty hay. The guard turned to go.

"Are you going to free my hands so I can eat?" Murtagh asked.

The guard turned, fixing Murtagh with an icy stare.

"No. Your mouth is still free. Crawl over to the tray and eat." Murtagh returned the look with a hard glare.

"I can't move. I won't go anywhere, but I will not eat like a dog." His pride- damaged as it was by losing and being reduced to this pitiful state- had not fallen quite that far.

Scowling, the boy turned fully around, but instead of grabbing the small knife visible at his waist, he kicked over the tray.

Both bread and bowl went flying. The bread landed somewhere behind Murtagh in the old hay, but the water hit him dead on. His face and chest were instantly soaked, and the bowl fell to the ground just millimeters from his nose.

Murtagh sputtered, water getting in his eyes and nose. He blinked several times, his vision clearing as the water dripped off his face onto the hay beneath.

He looked up at the other, who gave him a victorious smile, turned, and exited through the door to resume his post.

He looked over at his other two guards, both of who had been watching the scene with interest. The bearded one shrugged and turned to watch the festival while the one with the long scar gave him an apologetic smile. Then he, too, turned back to the festivities.

Miserable and cold, Murtagh tried to make himself as comfortable as he could, moving his arms a bit to try and restore the circulation to the arm pinned below his weight- it had fallen asleep, and was now starting to sting something fierce.

He shifted his legs, trying to ignore the aches and pains all over his body from the earlier battle. His shoulder wasn't bleeding anymore at least, though it was still achy.

Having nothing else to keep him occupied- and the thought of observing the festival, with all the food, talk, and fun...

His stomach growled loudly, and Murtagh wrenched his thoughts away from the tasty smells that drifted past his nose.

He began cataloguing his injuries, trying to see what still hurt so he would know what to be careful of if- when he started moving of his own volition again.

His shoulder was achy, but it would probably heal all right by its own. That is, if it hadn't gotten infected.

His body was still hurting all over from his fall, but the worst pain was from his head- it hurt to move it at all.

Scowling, he recalled how the two men that had brought him here had just thrown him in the wooden cage.

It didn't seem to be anything more than a pounding headache- which the cold water soaking his hair had actually helped, somewhat. However, Murtagh just couldn't find it in himself to be grateful for that.

He was still cold, and the water was just making him colder. He shivered, trying to draw his knees up to his chest to preserve heat.

A loud 'clang' rattled the wooden planks that served as bars. He looked up, eyes meeting those of his cruelest guard.

"Quit moving in there." the teen said, glaring. Murtagh bit his tongue in an effort to keep from retorting.

It would do him no good, and he wasn't stupid enough to provoke someone who obviously hated him already.

Satisfied that that was probably the extent of his injuries- though more would certainly rear their ugly head later- he turned his mind to a happier topic, but currently a puzzling one.

'Where is Eragon?'

He knew he wouldn't have missed his brother- his eyes had kept jerking back up to the crowd every time he heard footsteps close to his cage. He hadn't spotted the other Rider yet, and it worried him.

In the heat of battle, with Eragon trying to kill him, it had been easy to strike back and try to hurt the brunette. His own pride and stubbornness had demanded that he not give up the fight. Now, alive only through his brother's grace and free to reflect on his deeds, it was far easier to worry that he had hurt Eragon more than he intended.

Eragon had defeated him, true, but at what cost? He had seen the effects of fatigue creeping up on the blue Rider as he had been dragged away to this prison.

He thought through several possible scenarios- perhaps Eragon wasn't a festival person? Perhaps he was sleeping in his tent? Maybe he was resting in the medic's tent? - but refused to consider one.

Eragon was not dead- he couldn't be.

His hands involuntarily squeezed into fists as he tried to reject the possibility.

Despite the fact that it had been him trying to murder Eragon, it would kill him to find out that he had succeeded.

He shifted again, trying to relax.

Footsteps approached his tent. Out of habit, his eyes darted up to identify the person passing.

Relief flooded through his body as he saw the familiar features, down to the chocolate eyes that were a constant fixture in his dreams.

Eragon was walking slowly past his cage, skirting around the edge of the party as he headed for the castle's back doors.

As though sensing Murtagh's eyes on him, Eragon's feet paused for a split second. He looked up from the ground, brown eyes meeting hazel.

None of the guards seemed to notice- either that or they ignored- the slightly stunned silence between the two brothers.

Murtagh greedily drank in every detail of the other Rider, noticing with a pang of guilt the bandage wrapped around his brother's shoulder, the pure white color peeking out slightly from the tan shirt Eragon wore. The brunette still seemed tired, but otherwise unharmed.

Satisfied with Eragon's physical state, Murtagh looked back up to his brother's face.

The fire backlit him nicely, he noted. A golden glow seemed to surround Eragon, casting parts of him in complete shadow, but chocolate eyes still stood out clearly, seeming to shine with a brilliance of their own.

A troubled look crossed the blue Rider's face and he looked away, quickly walking the rest of the way past the cage Murtagh was kept in.

Hazel eyes watched him go, only stopping when Eragon disappeared through the door.

Murtagh yawned, tired. It had been a long, trying day, and with his mind finally at ease in regards to his brother, sleep was the foremost thing in his mind.

Smiling, he allowed some more recent memories to play in his mind, his imagination editing out several things and substituting in others.

_A warm body above him._

_Lips raining gentle kisses on his face and chest._

_Playfulness. Kindness._

_Lust._

Murtagh's smile widened. His body had frozen as Eragon had tackled him, shock taking over as Eragon had straddled his hips instinctively to keep him down.

That deserved a small spot, at least, in his treasure chest of happy memories.

Still smiling, he drifted off to sleep.

_Love._

_Curious hands._

_"Murtagh..."_

TBC

Ancient Language

Malthinae vanyali- Confine/ Bind magic

A/N: And we'll continue next week. I think we're all enjoying this, right? Yes, there's not a whole lot of slash yet, but that will change. I'm working on it- there shall be slash! And kissing…

Whoops. Anyway, look for the second half to this next week, and I welcome questions and comments!

Next week: A midnight visitor, some more pain for poor Murtagh, and the beginnings of a long journey.

Review Replies!

**Shauna**- First reviewer for Chapter 3B! I hope this chapter came out quickly enough! (Sorry to disappoint, by the way- Eragon just bled a lot, but that was the worst of it. I won't have anything strange going on with the injury, mostly because I didn't even think about that until you said something… Whoops?) The next chapter will be out somewhere between Tuesday night and Thursday night of next week! Please- don't apologize for writing a long review! I love to read long reviews- the longer, the better! 

**Shadow ShiningPalm**- I'm glad you agree! Murtagh and Eragon are so cute… And you haven't gotten the nerve to post slash? All in good time, my dear, all in good time (but please do post some! Slash is slash, and slash is good…).

**Geek Squared 1307**- The fight scene was good? I'm glad! (If this story goes as planned, that will probably be the last fight scene in this…) Happy reading!

**Gloria Monday**- Riveted is good! I wonder what it'd be like if someone made a movie based on this fic? (Between you and me, the story is already 90 some pages, and I've yet to start Chapter 6! Which I will remedy soon… weekends aren't for nothing, right?) And I enjoy making jokes out of flames- it renders them ineffectual and I can't let flamers kill me by raising blood pressure… I hope this lived up to your expectations!

**Not-Obsessed-With-Itachi**- I might just check out your friends stories someday, but it all depends on what kind of a mood I'm in and what pairings your friend writes. I'm actually rather picky- once I see a character pairing up with a certain other character I never see alternate pairings, except in a few cases…

**AryaSuxEragonIsMine**- Of course I love them- that's why I wrote this! When I love a character, I find the character the best possible pairing in his/her series that I see happening! (And I'm so glad this ranked high enough on your 'good' meter to avoid you going blind, even if it was just barely. Too bad you can't read it without hating people who call Eragon gay…)

**Sakura evil twin of Sango**- Patience, my dear, is a virtue. Don't worry about the fun starting- it will, trust me. If by fun you mean obvious UST (unresolved sexual tension), then just wait until Chapter 5C- I enjoyed that part! If by fun you mean 'when do they kiss?' you may have to wait a bit longer on that…

**Kaylen**- I'm so happy you like it so far! And I completely agree- it's all well and good to have tons of cute oneshots about a couple you love, but it can be so much more fun to have a multichapter fic! I'm also glad you didn't think Eragon's thoughts were out of place! (I didn't think they were, but my mind works in strange ways so I wasn't sure if everyone else would agree!) So you were surprised? Yay! I couldn't very well have either of them die, but I didn't want to let them separate… Well, those were my plot-oriented motives, while my fangirl ones are a little less pure… As for the flamer, I usually only do a rip-apart of their review once- that way, if flames persist, I can just go back and read the first satire and laugh. I'm usually not bothered after that. (Thanks for the advice though!) Even if flames keep coming, I'll leave reviews open for everyone unless I start getting more flames than reviews. Please, send me a PM! I love hearing from other people who are like me! I also don't mind reading babble- I love long reviews, so babble on all you wish! I'll try to keep up with writing- I have at least another's months worth of posts written and beta'd, so I should be able to keep to my one chapter per week schedule. I look forward to hearing from you!

**Lekarsha**- I think you have mentioned you like my writing style, but it's always nice to hear! I always make it my goal to write as good as possible, so it's that much more enjoyable for all to read! I don't like to read fics with bad grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc., so I'm always sure to include those things in my work. That, and I'm a perfectionist… I will make sure my chapters stay long- I also hate reading stories where the chapters are just a paragraph, so mine will always be several pages long. Even when I split Chapter 5 into 4 pieces, it was only because the chapter was over 40 pages long! I'll always update around Wednesday, usually anywhere from Tuesday night to Thursday morning. I'm honored that you consider this good reading material! I try!

**Mantineus**- I'm so glad you liked it! I hope you liked this as well!

**Aisling-Siobhan** – At least it's not bad torture…? I couldn't resist being mean to him at least a little… Murtagh is definitely too cute to be tortured badly, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun! Also, I couldn't resist tying him up… Did I say that out loud? Whoops!

**Sybelle Annya**- I'm so happy you like this so far! Hopefully this chapter was long enough for you! I worship this pairing as well, so I just HAD to write a fic about them…

**Eryl**- Thank you very much! I'm so happy you like it so far! And of course you can still have the hots for him- I'm head over heels in love with Murtagh, and that's actually the reason I'm pairing him up with his brother. Characters I love I have to pair up with someone. Weird, I know, but that's the way my mind works since I don't like CharacterXOC pairings- especially not CharacterXMarySue! Also, don't worry about Murtagh and Eragon having a nice angsty (at least a little- well, there'll certainly be tension!) conversation! That will come, my dear, but all in good time.


	6. Healing

A/N: Sorry- I'm trying to keep up with the quality of Chapter 1 with the rest of the chapters, so they end up being insanely long and I have to split them up to avoid cutting things out. Hopefully it's still a good read anyway…

But I know some of you are probably wondering why this is Chapter IV Part B and not Chapter V. (Or Chapter VI, since we had III Part A and Part B… but I digress.) Well, that's because I planned the chapters out by events, and which one would be most effective told from following around a certain character. I had to follow Murtagh for these parts, so his chapter got split up, just like Eragon's for Chapter III.

Since III and IV have both needed to get split up, I shudder to think how many parts I might need to split future chapters up into- some have a lot more information and goings-on than the chapters so far…

But hey- quality and quantity isn't something I think anyone will complain about- unless the story is moving too slowly, which I don't think it is. If I'm spending too much time on random details, please tell me and I'll just stick to important stuff. If I don't have enough detail, again, please tell me and I'll try to improve.

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc and the other random OCs through the story. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Last week:

Murtagh's smile widened. His body had frozen as Eragon had tackled him, shock taking over as Eragon had straddled his hips instinctively to keep him down.

That deserved a small spot, at least, in his treasure chest of happy memories.

Still smiling, he drifted off to sleep.

_Love._

_Curious hands._

_"Murtagh..."_

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions

Italics: _dreams or imaginings. _(Which we see even less of this chapter)

Ancient Language translated at end of chapter.

**In Dreams IV, Part B**

Hours later, the fires long since dead, and almost every member of the Varden safely asleep for their journey back to rejoin the rest of their people, Murtagh awoke with a start.

He wasn't sure what had awoken him, but the first thing he noticed once conscious was the cold. The water splashed on him had not done him any favors, and he was shaking like a leaf. His hands, feet, and one of his arms were completely numb as well, from lack of circulation as well as the frigid temperature.

He also noted that the only thing not freezing was his shoulder- and not the one he was laying on.

His shoulder throbbed a bit, but it didn't feel cold to him at all- Murtagh knew that was one of the signs of an infection, and mentally cursed.

The second thing he realized was that someone must have come and retrieved his uneaten dinner- neither the bowl nor tray were in front of him any longer. It was probably safe to assume the bread that had landed behind him had disappeared as well.

The third thing he noticed was that there was someone in his prison with him.

He quickly closed his eyes again, feigning sleep as he heard the mysterious other person creep closer. Fear shot through his blood, but he kept his breathing slow and even as the presence drew nearer.

He nearly lost the act when a gentle hand was placed upon his side, rolling him slightly. Not enough to put him on his back and crush his hands, but enough for the person to see his face.

Murtagh carefully controlled himself, keeping his face slack and breathing even. He still shivered with cold, but that couldn't be helped.

The person let go, Murtagh's body rolling back to the position it had been in before.

He felt a probing finger touch his wounded shoulder lightly, and just barely refrained from hissing as pain shot down his arm.

His breathing skipped despite his attempt to control his reaction, and the person drew their hand back like they had been burned.

They didn't retreat entirely, though. He could still feel warmth radiating from their body as they hovered over him.

Finally, the person moved again.

Murtagh could feel their hand hovering over his wound again, and involuntarily tensed. The other didn't seem to notice, muttering quiet words.

"Waise heill."

Cool magic flowed from the hand he could feel hovering above his body. The smooth, almost warm sensation flooded through him, gently eradicating the infection- he could almost feel it disappear as his flesh knit itself back together to form smooth, perfect skin once again.

The quiet magician- male, he could tell from the sound of the voice, but the person had been too quiet to be able to tell who- kept pouring magic into him, slowly healing the aches and pains Murtagh had been dealing with every conscious moment.

Slowly, his head cleared, the healing magic reaching there. Murtagh nearly sighed out loud as his head was relieved of the pressure- he hadn't realized just how bad it had been until it was gone.

He felt the raw flesh around his wrists- badly burned by the rope- heal over with a new layer of skin.

Slowly, the flow of magic stopped. The magician made to move away, but just then a cold gust of wind rattled through the cage and Murtagh shivered.

He could almost feel the others hesitation, but then he heard the hay crinkle as the mystery magician knelt back down behind him.

A soft palm touched his forehead.

"Eresagi." the magician intoned. Instantly, heat began spreading from the contact point, moving down his body. His shivering slowly subsided, and his body fully relaxed, more comfortable and warm than he had been for weeks.

The magician stood. Wanting to know who to thank once he finally got out of the cage, Murtagh struggled to lift himself up to turn and look at the healer.

Alerted by his movements, the magician turned quickly back to Murtagh and placed a hand over his eyes frantically.

Murtagh struggled against the hand, falling backwards as the magician shoved him off balance.

Oddly enough, this felt almost familiar...

"Eragon?" he called softly, but his voice was scratchy and he hardly recognized the word. Swallowing slightly, he tried again.

"Eragon?"

He felt the hand holding him stiffen. Knowing that he guessed correctly, he opened his mouth to speak again when his brother beat him to the punch.

"Slytha."

The magic took instant hold of him, blue burning in his eyes for a moment before he fell back. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but all he could see was an indistinct figure as Eragon turned and left.

Unable to fight it any longer, his eyes closed and he fell back into a deep, unfortunately dreamless sleep.

**Insert Line**

It was not a nice, slow awakening to the waking world for Murtagh the next day. Instead of slowly easing from his dreamless sleep, rough hands grabbed him and shook him awake.

Hazel eyes opened quickly, blinking for several seconds in disorientation. Apparently noticing his state of wakefulness, the person stopped shaking him and stood.

Murtagh blinked up at the person who had given him such a wake-up call, realizing it was his young guard from the previous night.

'At least he didn't kick me.'

"Stand up- we're leaving." the boy commanded. He had such an air of haughtiness- the red Rider wanted nothing more than to knock him down a peg or three...

Apparently waiting for him, the guard folded his arms impatiently.

Carefully, Murtagh tried pushing himself up with the arm that had been pinned below him all night. It shook as his weight lifted, but he managed to shift his legs underneath his body and kneel.

Carefully, so as not to fall further off-balance, he rolled back slightly and soon his feet were planted firmly on the ground. Pleased with himself, he stood.

He faced his guard directly.

"If I am to be walking for any length of time," he said, having no doubt he would be forced to walk all the way to their destination. "- then I will need my legs free."

Scowling, the guard glared up at him. It had been impossible to notice while lying down, but the red Rider was a good two inches taller than the cruel teen. Murtagh's head nearly hit the beams making up the roof of his prison, but the other had more than enough space to move about comfortably.

Murtagh stared silently back. Eventually, the teen grunted in recognition and drew his knife. Quickly, he cut through the two sets of ropes binding Murtagh's legs. He straightened back up, looking at Murtagh with resentment.

"If I wasn't ordered to do that, you'd be hopping all the way back, bunny boy." he muttered, grabbing Murtagh's arm roughly. He turned and walked out of the cage, dragging the Rider behind him.

Murtagh stumbled slightly, the blood rush making him lightheaded as he used muscles that had been immobile for nearly a day. Still, he kept his balance- much to his guards disappointment, he was sure. If denying his tormenters a chance to humiliate him was the only pleasure he'd get until freed, then he would thoroughly enjoy it.

The teen led him to a small circle of armed men, shoving him forward into the center of the circle. Again, Murtagh stumbled, but was not thrown very far off-balance and did not fall.

He could feel the warriors eyes studying him- some had probably noticed his shoulder, the skin back to being pale and unmarked though the cloth around it was still caked with blood.

One of the men stepped forward- a short, little man- and poked his healed shoulder as if to determine that it had indeed been fixed.

The little man's beady eyes darted up to Murtagh's face.

"You, boy! Lady Nasuada forbade you to use magic!" he exclaimed in a strangely deep voice, taking a firmer grip on the small spear he held.

"I didn't use any." Murtagh replied evenly. "A healer came to my prison, but I myself used no magic."

Another man stepped forward, probably smelling blood. He had an animalistic kind of look, with his thin nose coming to a sharp point and thin lips that- when spread in a smile- revealed oddly long canines. His eyebrows were thin and high, giving him a wild appearance.

All in all, he vaguely reminded Murtagh of some species of hunting dog Galbatorix liked to raise.

"Prove it. What was the healer's name?" he said. Murtagh smiled inwardly.

Even his voice reminded him of a dog's bark.

"They didn't leave their name." Murtagh replied. It was true- Eragon had not spoken at all except while casting. "If you ask your woman magician, I'm sure she'll tell you that her seal doesn't allow me to use magic."

The men glanced at each other, uncertainty and unease written across their faces. Apparently, they were not very happy with the idea of speaking with her about the spell.

Finally, the doglike man stepped farther forward, bringing a rope out from behind his back. He let one end drop to the ground, then looked pensively at Murtagh's neck. The man brought the rope up, pulling one end around so he had enough rope to tie a knot with.

The Rider tensed as the man tied a firm knot with the rope. He could feel the restraint tight around his neck- not nearly tight enough to choke, but just enough to be uncomfortable and impossible to slip out of.

Satisfied with his handiwork, the dog-man bent over and picked the loose end up from the dusty ground, then handed his leash to the teenage guard.

His heart sank, but he made no outward indication as the guard shot him a malevolent smirk.

'This is going to be a long trip.'

A sharp tug on the rope had him stumbling a few steps forward before he could regain his balance. His face burned as the men around him laughed.

The tugs on the rope continued as his guard pulled him along to get in line with the rest of the Varden. The armed men arranged themselves in a square with him at the center- probably to protect the surrounding Varden members from the 'dangerous traitor'.

Far to the back, he could see Thorn being guarded by Saphira, and presumably Eragon as well.

Thorn must have seen him too, for an outraged roar soon split the relative silence of the morning. Thorn began moving towards his Rider, but Saphira stepped in front of him and growled.

The male dragon looked as if he would try to fight.

'Don't challenge her Thorn- it's not worth it. Galbatorix put me through worse.' Murtagh silently prayed, despite the fact that he knew Thorn couldn't hear him.

The ruby dragon backed down. Around him, he could hear relieved sighs as his guards relaxed. He hadn't even realized that they had tensed.

His teenage guard turned to smirk at him, even though his relieved sigh had been the loudest of all.

"Too bad for you your dragon's a sissy."

Murtagh didn't respond right away, instead using a glare he had seen his father use many times when he was truly furious.

"Say and do to me whatever you like- I don't care. But, I will warn you only once. Do not insult Thorn."

The dark-haired teen seemed extremely uncomfortable, shifting sideways as if to escape the fury behind Murtagh's gaze. The air seemed thick with tension.

"Whatever." The boy faced back front, but the red Rider knew his words had done their job. Slowly, the line of people, animals, and supplies began moving.

His rope was painfully jerked forward as it came their time to move.

'A very long trip.'

**Insert Line**

It was late at night when the Varden finally stopped again.

Murtagh was unceremoniously shoved back into his small cage. He collapsed gratefully, covered in road dirt and exhausted. The hay hadn't been changed, and it smelled awful, but he was too tired to care.

His tormenters had taken great pleasure at yanking on the rope unexpectedly. He had fallen a few times, and had nearly been strangled by the rope as he struggled to right himself without the help of his hands. Much to his relief, however, after a few hours the one hanging onto his rope had changed.

After the midday meal- Murtagh had again refused to eat like a dog- the teenager had given the rope up to the scarred man. Murtagh didn't know names, but he assumed that those two, at least, had been assigned to him for as long as he remained a prisoner. While the scarred man held the leash, he had enjoyed walking in relative comfort. His rope hadn't been pulled on at least.

After several hours, he had been handed over to the bearded man, confirming his thought that his three guards would be permanent additions to his life until he could be freed. While the bearded man wasn't as cruel as the teenager, neither was he as nice as the scarred man and every so often the rope would be yanked.

The bearded man had been the rope-holder until they made camp. He had also removed it just before throwing Murtagh back in his cage, for which the red Rider was thankful.

His stomach rumbled hungrily, but he tried to ignore it. He hadn't eaten in nearly two days, but he knew his body could survive longer than that without food. It was water that worried him more- his throat and mouth were drier than the Hadarac Desert at midday in summer.

Soon, though, the lack of nourishment would begin taking its toll on his body, especially with the hard pace the Varden had set. He was not used to walking long distances, and his boots had not been intended for long walks. He was sure that several blisters had formed and popped in the course of the day, but his feet were so numb from the journey he couldn't tell.

Not waiting for dinner- there was little point, despite his body's cry for food- he closed his eyes.

He soon drifted into peaceful oblivion, taking comfort in his dreams since none was to be found in the waking world.

_Soft skin._

_Peaceful expression._

_Cuddled close._

_A sleepy whisper._

_"Murtagh."_

TBC

Ancient Language

Waise heill- Be healed

Eresagi- I made this one up- it means 'heat'. If you'd like to use it, just ask!

Slytha- Sleep

A/N: Okay, so hopefully no one wants to kill me for making the one guard such a bastard… I seem to have a wealth of OCs in my Eragon fanfiction! First Talc, now all these random messengers and guards… (and I couldn't resist the 'bunny boy' comment… I thought about it and it made me giggle!)

Ah well.

Next week: We're in Surda, boys (are there any boys reading this?) and girls! We'll speak with some elves, and see if our boy Murtagh here can be saved or if he gets… (cue dramatic music) the axe.

(And let's face it- while I can make him supremely uncomfortable for a few hours, I can't kill him off. Yet, anyway…)

Review Replies!

Aisling-Siobhan – I don't think ANYONE would have a problem with tying Murtagh to a bed and having his or her wicked way with him… That reminds me of an AIM icon I saw! It said- and I quote- 'Forget Thorn, I'd rather ride Murtagh!'. Who wouldn't want to ride Murtagh? Even straight guys would look twice at him! And Ed Speelers is working at a construction site!? I did not know that! What I'd give for an autograph… and Garrett Hedlund's address so I might be able to score an autograph from him too… Gods, how great would that be? Congrats on being Reviwer #1 for Chapter 4A!

Gloria Monday – Squee for the review! Actually… now, it's 100+ pages, and I haven't even accomplished anything in Chapter 6… I have started it, but nothing that I need to get done with it has been accomplished! It might end up being longer that Chapter 5- which is in 4 parts. Go me! And the mean teen (we get to find out his name via Chapter 5A) doesn't play a huge role, but he does become a major minor character! I don't like having OCs play a huge role in my stories, but for this one they're a necessary evil. The evil teenager actually has a reason for acting like he is- we find that out later. My beta told me she liked that part, so hopefully you will too! Just think- only a week more of thumb-twiddling, and you can read the next installment of In Dreams! Thanks for all the praise- it makes me blush!

Shauna – Fun times indeed! Don't worry- they'll have interaction. They won't be constantly together, but they do get their share of confrontations- the biggest and best of which I am in the process of writing for Chapter 6, but unfortunately that won't be out for about a month… Oh yes, I am evil. Worship me! So Trianna blocking his magic was 'ridiculously cool'? Aww… I just feel so special, all this praise is making me blush! You'll get more- good things come to those who wait, my dear. Sad but true! Don't worry about sounding like a pathetic fangirl either- I can fangirl with the best of them!

OShayO - Thank you! I'm happy you love this story! Gah- unoriginal, but I can't think of anything better to say! I know- poor, poor Murtagh, but I love torturing the hot, angsty ones… And as for Murtagh joining his little brother… hmm… Eventually?

Tvaddictt - I know you can't see it, but I'm bowing. Seriously. It really honors me to know that this story is the one you can't wait to read more of- it makes me feel special!

Amy Shinomori – Thanks! I like reading satire, and I'm decent at writing it too… so glad you enjoyed! As for your second review, I'm so happy you liked the story bit as well! My writing style is good, you say? Thanks! The Gnomes… feel free to borrow them anytime you please! I'm done with them. I hope this chapter was just as good!

Shadow ShiningPalm – Sorry you got a bad review- we all get them sometimes, but bravo for posting! You definitely do have to start somewhere. Yes, the guard is mean to Murtagh- whew, it's odd to call the guard 'the guard', since I end up naming him next chapter… I know his name, but no one else does!

CaramelBoost - Yup- they're being so mean to Murtagh! It wasn't exactly like Eragon did nothing- that really was him in the first bit of this chapter. Did we like? Thanks so much!

Xximxnottheone - So glad you enjoyed last chapter! I hope you continue to enjoy it!

FangedWriter - So happy I was understandable! Thank you so much! Backups most certainly CAN be nasty… I'm so happy I made you laugh! I have other satires of flames from different fics- it's just a little hobby of mine!

AryaSuxEragonIsMine - As happy as I am to note that you're relieved there isn't any male on male sex scenes so far, you do realize that they will stay together and they do kiss later on? And that there may be mentions of heavier stuff? Just wanted to make sure… I'm so happy you think my story is getting better!

Geek Squared 1307 – Suspense is fun! Without suspense, this story would not be nearly so good! Murtagh is awesome- I felt kind of bad for him too, sometimes, but it was too much fun torturing him a bit I couldn't resist…

Kaylen – Thank you so much! I'm trying to make it seem realistic- so glad I'm doing decently so far! Yes, there will be a bit of a rough patch, and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I will writing it! I think it will be well worth it once we get to the slash- I hope everyone agrees!

krista-shadow – Thank you for reading this! I hope you like how the rest of this turns out as well!

thebrunetteditz - Thank you very much! I hope I posted this soon enough for your liking! There's still plenty more to come, too.

ShamefulDesire- Thank you very much! I'm so glad you like it so far- I try! Hopefully this update was soon enough for you!


	7. Discussion

A/N: Another week, another chapter! This is part 1 (of four…) of Chapter 5. Overall, the chapter ended up being around 40 pages so I couldn't post the entire thing at once! I split it into three smaller parts for easy reading.

I'm sure we'll all find Chapter 5 very enjoyable.

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling.), and the other random OCs through the story. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions. (Though she's currently MIA…)

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

Without further ado, here you are!

In Dreams, Chapter V, Part A 

Eragon smiled wearily as the party finally came to a halt. It had been near a week of walking at a frantic pace, stopping only for a midday meal and then camp late at night, but they had finally arrived back in Surda.

It had been a tiring journey, even for him though he could always ride dragonback when his feet tired. Several other people rode horses, though usually the animals were reserved for the old or the very young. The Varden- not having a lot of money to waste on luxuries like horses- had precious few of the beasts.

Eragon slid off of Saphira's back, where he had been perched for the last hour. It was about noon, so they would stop for lunch and then would continue on to reach the castle by nightfall.

With an affectionate pat to his sapphire dragon's side, Eragon moved to where the cooks were setting up. He wanted to hurry and grab a piece of bread and some cheese before they started slaughtering and cooking up fresh meat. Ever since his training with the elves, he had been unable to stomach meat and he now found that even the smell was enough to make him lose his appetite.

The cooks, of course, knew about his particular dietary needs and usually had a sizeable chunk of wheat bread and cheddar cheese waiting for him on a tray, with a mug of water to drink. Today his lunch awaited him on a flat rock next to a kindly old cook he could never remember the name of.

She smiled at him as he approached, then turned back to the small fire pit she was setting up. He grabbed the wooden tray with one hand, the mug in his other, then turned back to eat by Saphira. He wove through the crowd, having to come to a complete halt several times as rowdy, dirty children chased each other across his path.

Finally, he sat down in the dirt, leaning against the blue-scaled, warm side of his dragon. He balanced his tray on his crossed legs, picking the bread up first and ripping a chunk out of it with his teeth.

He chewed, then swallowed the rich morsel gratefully. They had started walking at dawn, and he hadn't had a chance to get breakfast before they had started moving.

Dreams had been keeping him awake. He had fallen asleep hours after everyone else, and had only been awoken when Saphira had contacted him mentally.

He lowered the bread, glancing back towards the main body of people. He, Saphira, and Thorn usually stayed back farther from the group on account of the dragon's large size, but he was still close enough to see what he needed to.

A brief expression of sorrow crossed his features as he saw his brother sitting stonily on the ground, not touching the wooden tray in front of him. Around him, the soldiers were all laughing and joking, drinking heartily.

Murtagh's hands had been untied only rarely since they had begun their trip. Eragon had noticed his brother hadn't been eating- he stumbled often, and his clothes seemed slightly looser on his frame than when they first met- and it had worried him. He had quietly made a few inquiries as to the reason, and all the guards but one had answered the same thing.

'Because he refuses to eat like the dog he is.'

He had talked to the only sympathetic guard- Eruka, a rather quiet man with a scar across the bridge of his nose, who had been with the Varden a month or two- and had convinced him to untie Murtagh's hands every so often at mealtimes so he could eat. Eruka hadn't needed much convincing, and nor had he asked why Eragon wanted it done. His silence had meant a great deal to the blue Rider.

Eragon had chanced to walk past Eruka and Murtagh one of the few times Eruka had managed to convince the rest of the guards to leave. Nasuada had forbidden Murtagh most freedoms, and she could very well punish the kind man if she found out what he was doing.

Murtagh had fallen upon his tray like a starving man upon a feast, and Eragon had seen the portions given to the red Rider- it was no feast. Murtagh had made quick work of the food and water, then wiped his mouth with a dirty sleeve.

Eragon had watched as Murtagh stretched his arms- and even from feet away, he could hear the bones creak and joints pop as his arms moved freely, utilizing muscles that had been held in an unnatural position until just minutes ago.

The red Rider had also checked his hands, rubbing his wrists in an attempt to restore much of the circulation. Eruka had simply watched quietly, letting Murtagh exercise his hands for a few minutes.

That few minutes was all he had, though. He had quickly tied Murtagh's hands back as the other guard's footsteps approached. Murtagh had let him, and then let a small smile spread over his face in thanks before he had resumed a stony expression.

Eragon had left after that, going back to sleep in-between the two dragons he was in charge of.

Thorn had not spoken to Eragon at all, but the male dragon and Saphira had apparently talked quite a bit. She wouldn't tell Eragon the contents of most of their conversations, but he could tell from her actions around the ruby dragon that she was warming to him.

It would be good, since she and Thorn would be working together if all went well.

Many of the elves had stayed with them, but several had gone back to Du Weldenvarden- Arya among them- to either return to their lives or inform Queen Islanzadi that the Varden was in need of several strong magicians.

Hopefully the elves would be willing and able to help free Murtagh, but it would be a good two weeks before they arrived in Surda, assuming they came at all.

He had talked with Nasuada. The second he had woken up from his blackout after the battle, she had wanted to see him.

She had made small talk for a bit- asking how he was, if he would be partaking of the festivities planned- but then had gone right down to the real reason she had wanted to see him.

Murtagh.

Why had Eragon defended the enemy Rider? That had been her main question. In a military sense, it made sense to acquire a powerful ally, but the red Rider's loyalty was also in question. He had betrayed them before. Murtagh couldn't even boast friends in high places- any powerful people he would have ties to would be part of Galbatorix's court, and thus useless. He had no ally in the Varden- except, apparently, Eragon.

The brunette had been unable to answer her, except that he thought it would be a good move for the Varden. With two Riders, both strong, they could overpower Galbatorix and win. Even if they just eliminated Murtagh, their victory would not be assured since it would still end up being a one-on-one fight- Eragon vs. Galbatorix.

She had looked uncertainly at him then, as if knowing there was some deeper reason, but he had not offered any other explanations.

He would not think about any deeper reasons. For him, he would follow the explanation he had given and ignore the possibility of any others. Focus on such things would only bring hope for the realization of his dreams, and that was wrong.

_Tempting, teasing._

_Smiling._

_Kissing._

_"Eragon..."_

_Closeness._

_Intoxicating proximity._

_"I..."_

Wrenching his mind away from his disturbingly wonderful dreams, he turned back to his lunch.

He picked the hunk of cheese up with his free hand, taking a small bite. The strong flavor was good after the less flavorful bread.

He took another bite, following that immediately with a bite of bread. He swallowed both, putting the cheese down to pick up his water mug and take a long swallow of the refreshing liquid.

He felt eyes watching him, but paid them no mind. He knew well enough what his dragon was thinking.

(Eragon.) Saphira uttered, voice concerned and mildly hesitant. (What troubles you?)

(It's nothing. I'm fine- don't worry, all right? ) he replied, placing his food and drink back onto the tray and hard ground beside him. Saphira was shaking her head before he even got the second syllable out.

(I know something is bothering you. You've been keeping me out of more and more of your thoughts lately, and it worries me. )

He looked at her, smiling reassuringly.

"It's nothing for you to worry about." he replied soothingly. "I don't want to talk about it."

Saphira looked at him for a moment, obviously worried and obviously trying to guilt him into telling her.

Eragon just kept staring at her evenly, not one to back down from a challenge.

The battle of wills ended, the brunette emerging victorious.

Saphira turned back to watching the people eat, laying her head down and making herself comfortable. Eragon looked down at the ground, suddenly not very hungry anymore.

He moved his tray off his lap and set it beside his nearly full mug, then uncrossed his legs and set his feet firmly on the ground with his knees slightly bent.

He rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward and resting his chin on his crossed arms.

Saphira had been right about something else worrying him. Nasuada had handpicked the guards assigned to Murtagh- Eragon had had no say, unfortunately- and he had to say he disagreed with her choice in this instance.

'We can't have his guards be sympathetic to him. We're depending on his guards to keep us safe, Eragon. I stand by my chosen men.'

The brunette had to back down. He knew that they couldn't have all of his guards be sympathetic- it was more than he had expected, to have one man be kind- but it had been cruel of Nasuada to assign Krin to Murtagh.

Krin was a boy just two years younger than the red Rider, with dark brown hair and grass-green eyes. He had been an only child, with a wonderful mother and hard but caring father. Eragon could remember Krin's parents, and how the boy had acted, before...

Both of his parents had been warriors. Melinda- his mother- had been a headstrong, brave woman. Kal- his father- had been a strong man, and one of the tallest and bravest in the Varden. Both had been killed at the Battle of the Burning Plains, leaving Krin an orphan. Eragon hadn't known them well, but he could recall meeting them once. He could still remember that it had struck him how close they were.

'This is how a family was supposed to be.'

They had been a close, tight-knit group, and he had felt their loss and regretted not knowing them better before they passed.

Their son- the delightful green-eyed boy that had once been so full of life- had begun shunning company since then, and had joined the Varden's army in hopes that he might one day fight the person he considered responsible for killing his parents- Murtagh.

It had not been directly the red Rider's fault for their deaths, but Krin had blamed him all the same.

Nasuada had forbidden direct harm to Murtagh- they weren't allowed to physically hurt him unless the Rider was the instigator- but Eragon could see the vicious manner in which Krin treated the defeated Rider. He had been unable to obtain concrete proof, however, and thus was unable to do anything. Krin would have to change by himself, since the blue Rider couldn't find enough evidence to justify punishing the dark-haired boy.

Unless he could be convinced to change.

Looking back towards the camp, he realized that their lunch break was over. Dirt was being thrown over the fires, putting them out quiet effectively, and everyone was packing up anything they had taken out. Half the people were already back in formation, eager to get moving and hopefully sleep in a real bed that night.

Eragon pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his mostly uneaten lunch, tray, and mug. The water he quickly gulped down as he walked to one of the cooks to return the food and tray.

Walking back to Saphira and Thorn, he passed by his brother and the escort of guards surrounding him.

Murtagh seemed exhausted, his hair limp and clinging to his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed thinner than last time Eragon had seen him.

He was barely holding himself up. Seeing this, concern instantly spread like wildfire through Eragon.

Some instinct urged him to go to Murtagh and just hold him, even if he could nothing else to comfort his brother. He had almost taken a step forward when he got a hold of himself.

'Stop it!' he mentally snarled at his body. He had just gotten the urge under control when his restraint was shattered again.

Murtagh looked up, dark hazel eyes meeting his own.

_Warm arms._

_Safety._

_Their own world._

_Acceptance._

Then Murtagh smiled thinly, in what had to be an attempt to reassure Eragon. With that one, simple gesture, Eragon's heart both sped up and calmed down. Despite the dirt from the road, that smile still made his heart race, as well as reassure him enough to make his worry fade.

Murtagh was strong. He would be fine.

Then the gaze and slight smile were gone, as the line began moving for the last leg of their journey. Slightly afraid of his reaction, and much troubled by it, Eragon looked away from his brother's moving figure and ran back to walk with the dragons as they moved towards the capital of Surda.

**Insert Line**

It was late by the time they finally reached Aberon. Upon entering the city- and walking through the mostly deserted streets- the people of the Varden dispersed. The families went to the small houses King Orrin had been generous enough to order built for them, while the single men and majority of the soldiers went to barracks and to their beds.

Some, of course, were more anxious to get back to the bars and social scene of the capital city- those men left to spend what little money they had in their pockets on drink and women. Still others had girlfriends they had left behind in the city, and were eager to be reunited.

Nasuada, of course, had to report back to the king since she was only based in Surda because of Orrin's generosity. Murtagh had been taken with her, his three guards escorting him to first the audience with King Orrin, and then to a prison cell.

Eragon- even though he had gone to his room and laid in his comfortable bed- had been unable to sleep. He had seen Saphira and Thorn to a large building that had housed dragons in the time of the Riders, and he knew both were asleep by now, but he couldn't sleep.

He had not yet seen much of Aberon, but he felt no desire to go and explore it during the nighttime. He did not want to wake one of his many friends in the Varden to talk- they were all exhausted, and he had nothing pressing to discuss.

Annoyed with his inability to sleep, Eragon huffed and rolled out of bed. Maybe a walk would tire him enough to allow him rest.

He didn't bother changing out of his pajamas, instead just pulling on a long black cloak and his shoes before heading quietly out of his large room. He closed the door securely behind him, then walked slowly down the hallway.

He didn't pass anyone- in fact, he seemed to be the only person still awake. His footsteps echoed loudly in the dark hallway, no matter how lightly he tried to walk.

Hopefully no one would wake from the noise, but it couldn't be helped.

Walking passed a new corridor, he turned. He hadn't had much of a chance to explore the castle either, and it was probably less dangerous than heading out into an unknown city late at night. He let his feet lead him as he followed his whims, turning down random corridor after random corridor, fascinated by the art he saw. Some halls had magnificent statues lining the walls, though the type of material varied from hall to hall. He saw gold, silver, copper, bronze, and several other metals he couldn't identify. Some seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them- he spent ten minutes staring at one statue of copper before deciding that the patterns the various geometric shapes were in had no meaning whatsoever.

Other hallways were decorated with paintings by various artists. Some had to be local- he had never heard of them- but other were names he recognized from stories that filtered through trade routes in Alagaesia.

Each piece of artwork was unique, and each was beautiful in it's own way. There didn't seem to be much reason to how they were placed, though, other than the materials used in creating it. Walking down a hallway of oil paintings, he saw a picture of a mother gently embracing a child next to a painting of Hell.

He had been walking for quite a while, and had ended up in a long hallway where windows leading outside seemed to be the decoration, before deciding to give up. Tired as he was, he didn't feel sleepy. He was about to turn around and work his way back to his room when a soft noise reached his ears.

He turned towards it, puzzled. It had sounded like the scuff of a boot against the stone floor...

It came again.

"Who's there?" he called, taking a few steps towards the noise. The person must have stopped walking- no further noise came from the dark part of the hallway where the sound had originated.

"Come out- I know you're here." the brunette repeated, annoyed. He took a few more steps forward, then paused and listened.

It was silent for several moments, but then the boot scuffing noise came again. The sound raised in volume, the hesitant steps becoming more confident as the person moved towards an area lightened by moonlight from outside.

As the person stepped into the light, Eragon nearly smiled.

He was suddenly glad he had chanced to take a walk.

"Krin." he uttered in greeting, nodding in acknowledgement. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Nothing, sir." Krin replied, bowing slightly in respect. As much as the green-eyed boy hated his brother, he respected Eragon. Perhaps it was because he felt they were kindred spirits- it had somehow become common knowledge that the Varden's Rider had never really known a mother, and his father figure had been killed just before he began his journey. "Could I ask the same of you?"

"I couldn't sleep- I decided to take a walk to tire myself out. Instead I ran into you. I'm glad I did." Eragon paused, trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject with the other man.

"Glad? Why?"

The brunette sighed, unable to think of a subtle way to bring up the topic he wanted to discuss.

'I'll think of something.'

"I wanted to have a word with you." the Rider replied. It was silent for several minutes while Eragon racked his brain trying to figure out a tactful way to speak about Murtagh's treatment to Krin...

It was the green-eyed boy who finally broke the slightly awkward silence.

"About?"

'Any second now, I'll think of something...'

Nothing came to him. Deciding that beating around the bush wouldn't help his cause anyway, Eragon went straight to it.

"Murtagh."

He could see Krin tense angrily, mouth opening to reply hotly to the topic suggested. Knowing that shouting would not be the best way to keep hostility in this conversation to a minimum, Eragon quickly spoke again.

"I know you don't like him, Krin, but he's still my brother." Krin shut his mouth, his jaw taught with anger. The tension in the hall did not disappear, but it seemed less like a bomb was about to go off. Taking this as a good sign, the brunette continued.

"I want to explain something to you, if that's all right. I'm not asking you to like him, but I would like you to try and understand him a bit better."

"Understand?" Krin snarled incredulously. "Understand?! He murdered my parents. He deserves everything he's getting-"

Eragon sighed.

'Well, I knew going in that this would be no picnic.'

"Murtagh is an orphan as well." he replied softly. That stopped Krin, but only for a moment. Still, the young man was obviously taken aback by the news, but it did not visibly lessen his hate for the red Rider.

"So what? Being an orphan doesn't mean you're not a monster."

Eragon winced. He knew that few in the Varden had been in support of Nasuada's decision to let Murtagh live- it had made her pretty unpopular, but she was still their leader- but it stung to hear his brother referred to as a 'monster'.

He took a deep breath, wondering how best to change Krin's opinion on Murtagh. Where would it be best to start?

"I don't know if you've seen this..." Eragon started slowly, picking his words carefully. "Murtagh has a scar on his back. Do you want to know how he got it?"

Krin shrugged, though a flash of recognition went through his green eyes at the mention of the scar.

"What about it?"

"Murtagh received that scar when his father threw a sword at his back. It nearly killed him. I think he was three at the time." The dark-haired teen didn't say anything, but Eragon could tell from the way Krin froze that the news had been a shock to him. The blue Rider pressed on.

"Our mother- Selena- left him for a month while she gave birth to me, and died shortly after she returned to him and his father."

The Rider could still recall how haunted Murtagh had looked one night after waking up from a nightmare. Eragon had not pressed for information, but when asked the red Rider had replied that he had been dreaming of his mother and how she died. With the information he knew now, he could guess what had happened to their mother but he didn't like to dwell on it.

"And why should that matter to me?" Krin asked. He sounded cold, but Eragon could hear a slight tremble in his voice. "He was taken in by that mad king-"

"That's no life for a child." Eragon interrupted. Krin closed his mouth. Emotions played across his face, battling for control.

A small sniff broke the silence.

"My parents died because of him. I can't forgive him for that." Krin voiced stubbornly, looking away from Eragon and hiding his face in shadow. His shoulders trembled. Eragon reached out to lay a comforting hand on the other boys shoulder, but Krin shrank away from the touch.

Eragon let his hands fall back at his sides.

"I'm not asking you to. I know you probably won't stop hating him just because of a few things you didn't know. All I'm asking is that you don't go out of your way to make him miserable all the time."

Again, silence filled the space between them. Finally, Krin yawned.

Eragon glanced out the window, surprised to see gray, predawn light brightening the sky.

"Looks like it's time to part ways." he muttered to himself, then turned back to Krin. "Think about what I said, all right?"

Krin hesitated, then turned around to leave.

"I make no promises." he offered over his shoulder, heading away from Eragon and back to his barracks.

Eragon smiled. With any luck, his little talk with Krin would make things slightly more bearable for his brother.

He yawned, then turned to go back to his own room.

Once there, he removed his cloak and boots, tired fingers fumbling with the clasp and the knots.

He had just collapsed into his bed when the sun peeked over the horizon.

TBC

A/N: Well, we have arrived in Surda, and even had a little heart-to-heart with Krin! (Note: This was his major scene- he pops up a few more times, but he's no major character. Hopefully we got a bit of insight as to how he's thinking…)

Next Week: Eragon takes a trip, but maybe not all is as it first appears… Our angsty boy is back! Why?

You'll just have to wait and see… (Hey, at least it's not exactly a cliffhanger, right?).

Review Replies!

Shauna- Thank you! I enjoy my evilness… Did you like this chapter as much as the previous one? I try to keep it good, in character, and interesting! Double congratulations for you! You're the first reviewer for Chapter 4B and the first person to call themselves my avid fangirl!

OShayO- Naw, Murtagh couldn't hate anyone. I doubt he resents anyone for wanting to make him angsty-er and just torture him a bit… I don't have the heart to put him through worse though. You're totally right though- torture of the hot characters in a series makes a fun to read story!

AryaSuxEragonIsMine- Okay, so long as you knew! I wasn't sure.

Thebrunetteditz- I know you can't see, but I'm bowing. I try! So happy you enjoyed it!

krista-shadow – Thank you so much! I hope I updated soon enough for you?

Eryl- More will come, my dear, more will come! I can't have this story barren of all EragonxMurtagh angst, now can I? I suppose that you'll be ripping a few people's heads off now- some of the guards were kinda mean! And I feel honored to receive the longest review you have ever written! Go me! I'm glad you liked 'Always' as well!

CaramelBoost- I figured that OCs with character would be more interesting to read than OCs without character! Besides, I need to use some of them later on… I hope you liked this chapter too!

FangedWriter- We definitely need characters to hate- it's no fun having all the characters be nice, ne? Besides, I figure it would be OOC for the Varden to WANT Murtagh there…

Embry – So glad you like it! Hopefully this was soon enough!

Kaylen- Thank you so much! I try to make the scenes cute but realistic- so it's working? Angst is very fun- it makes a story memorable, and gives it more depth than just cute fluff… Not that we don't sometimes need cute fluff, but angst is needed to keep a long story going! In my opinion, at least… And on a more personal note, how have you been? I haven't gotten a PM from you in a while, but that may just be my account- sometimes it screws things up!

Xximxnottheone- Thanks! I try!

Sirana- Welcome to 'In Dreams'! So happy you like it so far! I agree- there are just not enough EragonxMurtagh fanfics out there- I am doing my part to add to the collection! I might do a sequel to 'Bowling' if you really want one, but it could be a long while if I do. I'm trying to finish up In Dreams, but I haven't gotten anything done for a few weeks and then I'm doing some fics for other series- some of which I seriously owe to people… I'll try!

Mantineus- Don't worry- I won't kill you! It's great you stick with this! I hope this chapter was just as entertaining! You're a guy? Awesome! (I don't know how many guys ship slash pairings, so it makes me feel special!)

blackrose305- Thank you! Was this soon enough?

Geek Squared 1307 – Funny you should mention our boys meeting up for a longer time soon. As a matter of fact, in chapter 5C- But that's for a later time. I hope you liked this and will like the meeting when it comes up!


	8. Aberon

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions. Also dedicated in part to Lauren- you know who you are!- since she puts up with me bugging her everyday at school on how she liked the latest chapter! For that, she truly deserves a medal…

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**Last week:**

Eragon smiled. With any luck, his little talk with Krin would make things slightly more bearable for his brother.

He yawned, then turned to go back to his own room.

Once there, he removed his cloak and boots, tired fingers fumbling with the clasp and the knots.

He had just collapsed into his bed when the sun peeked over the horizon.

And now, for this weeks installment!

In Dreams V, Part B 

It was midday when sleepy chocolate eyes finally blinked, their owner slowly drifting into the waking world.

_Warm chest._

_Embrace._

_"Eragon..."_

_Precious words._

_"I..."_

In the hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, Eragon allowed the images from his dream to play over in his mind.

_Warmth._

_Comfort._

_Wonder._

Suddenly, his mind snapped into focus as his mind played the image of familiar hazel eyes.

Furious with himself for dwelling on the dreams, he quickly shoved them behind the door he had hidden all other thoughts of... that nature behind.

He kicked the covers off his body and stood, shivering slightly as his feet met the cold stone floor.

Still slightly sleepy, he made his way over to a large wardrobe on the far wall of the room. He had only been there for a day, but King Orrin had insisted on getting measurements so clothes could be made for him to wear next time he was in Surda.

Eragon- not expecting to be back for a while- had a sudden appreciation for the eccentric king's foresight.

The wardrobe was a good foot taller than he was, made of solid wood with an intricate carving of a dragon on the front. The dragon was beautifully detailed, its coiled body spreading across the two doors of the wardrobe with its two clawed hands making up the knobs that opened the doors. In each hand was a smooth, polished stone of a blue so deep it reminded Eragon of the ocean as he had seen it while in Terim.

Each scale of the dragon's body was carefully etched into the wood and each scale was outlined with just a hint of gold. The powerful, long fangs carved into the open maw of the creature were covered in a thin layer of the precious metal, glinting in the faint light of the room. The eyes of the beast were created from more blue stones, and if you looked deep enough into their depths, seemed to sparkled with intelligence of their own.

It was a truly beautiful piece of artwork, but Eragon couldn't just stand and admire the wooden carving all day.

Opening the handsome maple wood door, he looked at his outfit choices.

Most were varying shades of brown- some as light as a fawn, others as dark as chocolate- and were probably intended for everyday wear. The brown clothes- while all fine- were made from some sturdy cloth Eragon believed to be cotton. Most were fashioned much like he had worn at home- long sleeves, wide collar- but the cloth was of a much higher grade than Garrow had ever been able to afford. Several of the shirts had a dark brown thread running up and down the sides in a criss-cross pattern. Looking closer, Eragon deemed the nearly black strip to be leather.

Pants hung beside the shirts, most made of the sturdy leather Eragon had noticed holding some of the shirts together. He reached a hand out, feeling the material.

It was surprisingly soft, and from the looks of it they would fit much like the pants he had worn back home- not tight enough to be uncomfortable, but not loose enough to where he would need to worry about them slipping off his waist.

Curious as to what else might be in the wardrobe, Eragon moved several of the shirts and pants aside, coming across a few blue outfits. One shirt was a light sky-blue color, with numerous buttons of gold up the front for fastening, as well as light, baggy sleeves that would cinch snugly around his wrists. A handsome vest of deep blue was hanging over the shirt, with more golden buttons and a soft inner lining. The match for this rich top hung beside it. The pants were of a leather so deep in color Eragon was unsure whether to label them blue or black, and from the look of it the fit would be a bit tighter than what he was used to.

The other shirt was similar to the first, but for the color. The top was more of a sapphire shade, and had buttons of a gorgeous white stone Eragon hadn't seen before. No vest came with this shirt, and no pants, leaving Eragon to assume that the dark blue bottoms were to be worn with either shirt.

Both were obviously dress outfits- probably for a party or other important event. Still curious- as he hadn't made his way through the entire wardrobe yet- Eragon pressed on.

The next outfit he came to was red- almost bloody in color, and strikingly similar to the second blue shit he had encountered but for the buttons. The buttons were of a pitch-black stone, but Eragon couldn't put a name to the rock. He noticed black leather bottoms hanging beside it, but his attention was completely focused on the shirt.

'Red…'

That color reminded him too much of a certain Dragon… and that shade seemed to be a perfect match for those ruby scales…

Distractedly, the brunette pressed on, but froze as he shoved both the pants and shirt away from his line of sight.

His mouth went dry.

Hanging in his closet was another dressy shirt- much like the others he had seen, but suddenly the design reminded him of someone else.

The black shirt even had a vest- thin and leathery, with long buckles across the front to fasten it over his chest- and it was hauntingly familiar. It wasn't an exact match, no, but it was too close for his liking to what Mur-

Hurriedly, Eragon moved the red shirt back into place, followed quickly by the brown clothes in an attempt to cover the black cloth that had stirred up memories he had barely had time to forget.

Distracted, he selected an outfit at random from the wardrobe before slamming the beautifully carved doors shut.

He turned on his heel and walked back to his bed, dropping his clothes for the day on the rumpled covers. He pulled off his shirt quickly, still keenly aware of the black outfit in his wardrobe.

It was probably just in case he had to attend a funeral while in Surda, but while he knew that intellectually his mind had immediately skipped to thoughts of pale skin contrasting sharply with the black outfit the other always wore.

He whipped the shirt onto the floor, grabbing the pale cotton shirt he had picked. He quickly shrugged it on, changing as quickly as he could.

He left his pajamas on the floor, knowing a maid would come by later to clean up. He shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his cloak from its hook on his way out the door.

As he headed into Aberon, he stopped a messenger- the same girl that had told Nasuada that the men were ready at the last battle- and told her to inform Nasuada that he would be exploring the city for a while. She nodded and took off.

Satisfied no one would send a search party after him when it was found that he had left his room, he walked through the castle gates and into the city beyond.

**Insert Line**

Eragon took in a deep breath as he wandered around what appeared to be an open-air market. The dirt road under his feet was packed hard by the millions of people who traversed this ground every day, and was wide enough for four men on horseback to move comfortably abreast. Small merchant shops and stalls lined the dirt path, most places surrounded by shoppers with baskets to carry their newly purchased things in.

Flags stretched in long lines overhead, going from stone wall to stonewall over the marketplace for as far as the eye could see. Jerking his gaze from the sky, Eragon looked back at ground level so he could begin his exploration. An eager smile made its way upon his face as he began moving forward to weave through the small groups of people moving in packs across the dirt road.

As he moved a sweet scent drifted past his sensitive nose. Sniffing the sweet air, Eragon turned to see where the aroma was coming from.

A small baker's stand with what appeared to be several different kinds of fruit pastries was the source of that sweet smell. Knowing he hadn't had a lot to eat today, Eragon almost headed for the small stand.

Resisting temptation, Eragon tore his gaze away and kept moving. Carvahall had never been a 'must-hit' place for merchants- they only had several who stopped by regularly. He had been to several big cities, but never had time to waste sightseeing. It was new, and a bit exciting to see so many buyers and sellers, all running around to finish up errands or buy things for loved ones.

Since he had no place to be, and nothing particular to buy, Eragon stopped by several stalls that seemed interesting. There was one at which a small, elderly lady was folding the most incredible things out of paper. He was almost tempted to buy a dragon folded from beautiful blue paper, but it would cost him half the money he carried. While he didn't have a lot of money, he still thought it was ridiculous for a folded piece of paper, no matter how pretty it was.

Another stall he stopped at had small music boxes that played everything from violins to birdsongs. Most were small enough to fit into his palm, and all seemed very delicate, what with small, golden flowers decorating the top of every box.

Yet another stall sold beautiful sugar creations- delicately carved animals of every kind, flowers, rings, and even your portrait if you paid enough. Some were truly wonderful to look at- and while most sugar Eragon had seen had either been brown or white, the sugars used at the tiny shop seemed to be every color one could want. He had almost thought the small figures were made of stone and painted, not edible artwork.

Other stalls sold masks, weapons, pastries, pies, fruits, vegetables, toys, drinks, and more. Some sold things called 'magic tricks'- Eragon watched the stall owner demonstrate to a crowd of excited ten-year-olds how easy it was to pull a coin from another person's ear. The Rider had to laugh as he watched the children turn to each other and yank on any ears within reach.

It was hours later, and night long since fallen, when his stomach reminded him that he had had little to eat that day. With a loud rumble, it voiced its complaint to the Rider as well as all the shoppers within a ten-foot radius. He put a hand to his belly in a futile attempt to quiet it, but thoughts of food rolled around in his mind. He tried to force the thoughts from his mind, making his body promises to find food once back at Orrin's castle as he turned to walk back to the large building from whence he came.

He knew it was a losing battle from the beginning, and the smell of cooking pastries proved to be his undoing. With one last, loud rumble as he passed by the small bakery he had spied earlier, he stopped. He mentally sighed as he turned to face the small stand of glass and wood, mouth watering uncontrollably as his eyes found the glaze covered, sweet delicacies.

He moved towards the stall, the baker giving him a warm smile that Eragon returned.

The bakery wasn't really a shop- it was just a small establishment, sandwiched in between a stall selling the most ridiculous hats and the elderly lady selling her paper crafts. From the steam rising at the far back of the stall, the Rider could tell all the baking was done with some kitchen setup just beyond the curtain keeping prying eyes from prying beyond the small counter, safebox, and glass pane displaying the baker's goods. The small stall was lit only by the flickering light of three small lanterns.

The glass was so clean it hardly even seemed there, and Eragon let his eyes rake over each soft-brown covered fruit pastry just beyond the clear glass. There were a good dozen trays, each with its own type of pastry and several covered in delicious-looking glaze. Prices as well as names were listed on small cards attached to the front of the trays.

As he selected his treats, a thought nagged at the back of his mind insistently. Something had seemed odd about the whole day, but he couldn't put his finger on what. It hadn't been a continuous feeling, but every so often something would just strike him as strange.

He put his thoughts aside for a moment to call over the plump, rather jolly baker standing behind the counter. The man took the step or two forward necessary to get within reaching distance of the pastries. He grabbed a set of wooden tongs with which to seize the food as it was ordered, as well a small paper bag from a stack to put the pastries into.

Absently, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what had been bugging him; he ordered three pastries- two strawberry and one mango. He had never heard of a 'mango' before, but the smell emanating from the glazed pastries was more than enough to convince him the sweet-smelling delicacy should be given a fair chance.

The baker tallied up the total for the three pastries, Eragon passing several small coins over to pay. He accepted the brown paper bag from the other man as the baker turned to the small safebox on a small wood table just beyond the barrier of the counter and the glass panel.

Eragon allowed his mind to wander as the baker turned and twisted the combination to deposit Eragon's money and collect enough from the safe to give the proper change due.

'What was strange?' he wondered, a puzzled expression moving over his features. He let his mind run through the events of the day, purposefully blocking out several instances that reminded him of someone he desperately wished he could forget…

Nothing.

No matter how he tried, he couldn't put his finger on exactly what had been nagging at him. Still, his was stubborn and determined to figure out what had been bothering him.

He was still extremely distracted and lost in his thoughts when the baker straightened up and moved back to the counter with change in hand. Eragon accepted the change from the jolly man, turning from the stall with an expression of deep thought.

Just as he was about to leave, two more people approached the stall. Both men had cheery smiles- one was extremely tall, with curly brown-blonde hair that fell into his eyes. The other was slightly shorter, but not by much, with short brown hair.

That wasn't what caught his attention though.

It was as though he had been awoken by being tossed into a freezing lake. With sudden sick realization, it dawned on him what had been bothering him all day- what had seemed off about the entire market.

They were holding hands. The two men before him were holding hands.

His gaze darted back up to their faces as the shorter man ordered without so much as a glance towards the trays on the other side of the glass. He studied the both of them for a moment, concentrating on any possible facial features they had that could be similar. They didn't look related...

"... and he'll have three apricot pastries." The brown-haired man had just finished ordering, turning to the taller of the two with a proud smile. "Did I get it right?"

"Perfect." The taller man leaned forward a bit, pressing a light kiss to the other's lips. "That's why I love you."

Eragon's gaze darted to the baker. The man wasn't even sparing the male couple just feet from him a second glance- as if two men kissing was a normal occurrence. Like it didn't matter to him at all that two 'strange' men were in love with each other.

The baker grabbed the pastries ordered with the wooden tongs, shuffling them carefully into a bag before turning back to his customers- who were kissing again, much to Eragon's disgust and shock- and calmly telling them their bill.

Eragon backed away from the surreal scene slowly, eyes wide as he saw the men break off their kiss for the taller to hand the jolly backer a few coins.

The baker was smiling, accepting the coins with a jovial wink, like the money hadn't been contaminated. It was wrong… This couldn't be happening…

Eragon turned away from the scene, stomach churning as thoughts and realizations ran through his mind. He walked away at a brisk pace, keeping his eyes down so he wouldn't have to witness any more unnaturalness.

Even so, as he walked back to the castle, he was keenly aware of the couples milling around. The majority were normal, man and woman couples that he had grown up to believe was the only true kind of love. Even with the majority being 'normal', he still saw men holding hands with other men, and women holding hands with other women- and no one said anything. He saw several couples kiss, and almost all were holding hands, but no one seemed to notice the wrongness of the same-sex couples.

Breathing shallowly, he turned his gaze away from two men as their lips touched, only to see two women looking at each other lovingly. In front of the stall with the beautiful sugar creations, no less. Eragon couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw sugar rings on the woman's fingers just before he turned away.

_Pale, slender, and strong fingers slipping a ring onto his hand._

_Hazel eyes looking at him with adoration._

_Public._

_Accepted._

_Joyous embrace._

_"Eragon, I..."_

He had to escape the images. Eragon broke into a run, ignoring the people he nearly bowled over as he rushed passed them. He had to get out of there- any more time spent with those people…

He ran out of the marketplace, past the other people with his abnormality, passed the happy shoppers enjoying what he had to deny himself...

Some people looked at him oddly- Eragon knew he made a strange sight, but he couldn't be bothered with such petty worries like his image. The need to get away was overwhelming, drowning out all else as he pushed his body- elven speed and all- to the maximum.

The only sounds he heard was the blood as it rushed through his body and his booted feet as they met and pushed off the dirt street. His breath wasn't so much a sound as it was a burning feeling in his chest as it heaved. He could feel the pain racing up and down his legs as his feet met the hard ground harshly, trying to outrun the disastrous images that even now plagued his mind.

_What would it be like if he could hold me like that?_

_What would it be like if we could pledge ourselves publicly to each other?_

With a mental snarl of rage, Eragon pushed his body beyond his max, allowing himself only to feel the physical pain of his body as it was shoved beyond its capabilities.

He didn't stop his frantic pace until he had reached the castle gates. He collapsed, panting heavily, one hand still clutching his pastries despite the fact that he had lost his appetite.

_Warm hand in his._

'No.' he told himself firmly. 'I don't want that. It's wrong.'

Says who?

'Everyone.'

Not here.

Eragon shook his head, his breathing slowly returning to normal. A dream was something he had no control of- he was not responsible for those, but to actually consider acting upon one of those dreams...

It disgusted him. It was wrong- completely, irrefutably wrong.

A picture of Talc's crying, beaten face flashed into his mind.

Suddenly dizzy, Eragon put a hand on the stone wall to steady himself.

The image of Roran's strong, bruised knuckles and dark eyes, one surrounded by an even darker bruise greeted him as soon as he closed his eyes.

Childlike, his voice played in his mind.

'Roran, how'd you get hurt? Were you in a fight?'

Feeling sick, he recalled his cousin's answer, loud and clear.

'No- I was helping some of my friends with some trash.'

A vision of Talc's bloody hand entered Eragon's head, recalling how the other had been reaching out for help...

He pushed off the wall, bile rising in his throat. He dropped his bag of pastries, but they hardly mattered, as he wouldn't be able to eat them.

To be so open and free with such a thing- for the normal people in Surda to allow something like that…

'Why not I?'

He nearly stumbled as the jealous thought shot through him, but kept moving forward towards the castle doors.

Something such as that- there was nothing to be jealous over. Nothing to desire there. That 'strangeness' was nothing to embrace- he had been told that over and over again.

He kept reassuring himself that he didn't long for the freedoms he had seen the other couples enjoy in the marketplace. Even to himself, his mental voice sounded weak and uncertain.

He forcefully shoved all thought of the outing from his mind as he reached the tall wooden doors of the castle, pulling quickly on one of the handles to open a door for himself. With his extra strength, it took little effort to slip quietly into the silent castle.

As the door shut behind him, he briefly considered going to Saphira for some help in making sense of the odd emotions churning his stomach. The thought was fleeting, and he discarded it. Saphira couldn't help him- in this, he had to be alone. The thought that someone else- even if it was Saphira- would know, would be told… It was too much. Even if he were willing to tell someone else, Eragon was sure his throat would close up when it actually came time to speak the words.

His abnormality was disgusting and wrong. It was his secret, his shame- no one else need know of it.

Eragon slipped through the halls of the castle, making a conscious effort to stay quiet as to not alert anyone to his presence. He didn't know if he was able to face anyone quite yet.

He was exhausted by the time he reached his room. Even though he physically wasn't tired, his mind had exhausted itself by moving so quickly through so many feelings in such a short time.

Repressed longing was the strongest. Anger was the next.

He pulled off his cloak, hanging it on the small hook by the door. He moved towards his bed, kicking off his boots. He nearly fell over one as he tried to remove it, but caught himself and pulled the troublesome footwear off with his hands. Carelessly, he tossed it towards the other boot. It landed with a dull 'thunk'.

He looked up at the bed, seeing that it had been made and a new set of pajamas laid out for him to wear. Not feeling like putting effort and energy towards changing, he swept the clothes off the blankets and onto the floor before climbing into the soft sheets.

Thoughts still chased each other around his mind- images and feelings, fantasies and dreams- but he could do little to rid himself of them. Despite the fact that most of the images made his stomach churn and his heart ache, he could not banish them.

He wanted it, but at the same time did not. He needed it, but could not- would not- get it.

That was the way it should be. It was wrong, and he was wrong and bad and 'strange' for wanting it. Eventually- if he tried- he could be 'normal'. He was certain that- should he try- he would start noticing women and not…

Eventually, he would be normal, and fall in love with a beautiful woman who would bear him many children. That was what he wanted- it was what every man wanted, wasn't it? Of course he desired such a life…

It didn't matter that- in every one of his daydreams- the feminine figure he tried to conjure morphed into a familiar lithe form, radiating power as hazel eyes stared deeply into his own…

Eragon put his foot down mentally, slamming the brakes on that particular train of thought.

His eyes closed as he shifted around, making himself comfortable. He carefully kept his mind away from the dangerous topics he was making a conscious effort to forget, and he allowed himself to drift off.

Yawning, he turned under the covers. With one last nuzzle closer to his pillow, he fell asleep.

_Pale, callused hand holding his._

_Playful kisses, a reward._

_His head resting on a strong chest as he fell asleep smiling._

_"Eragon..."_

_Knowing the words, but treasuring them all the same._

_"I..."_

TBC 

A/N: Kudos to anyone who predicted even something like what I had in store in the marketplace! I hope this was an enjoyable as all chapters previous…

And hopefully he was IC!

Next Week: Now that Eragon has had a chance to angst, let's add some fuel to the fire! Nasuada will probably surprise you all next chapter! With what will have to wait until next week…

But it'll be fun!

Review Replies!

Shauna- Sorry this was a bit late… And did you like the bit of angst I tossed in? I tried, but I'm never sure if I succeeded until I hear from all my reviewers! I'm posting as fast as I can- and if I posted everything at once, then it would be months in between updates. By rationing out what I have, so to speak, I make sure all my readers have something! I try! And it's fine if you sound like a little kid- your enthusiasm is refreshing! I love it when people get so enthusiastic about something- it makes me happy! 'Til next time!

krista-shadow – Don't worry, interaction is coming up! Maybe sooner than you think… Thank you very much for sticking with this so far!

AryaSuxEragonIsMine- I won't tell if you won't!

Thebrunetteditz- Candy and cookies! (gobbles them down). Believe me or not, those were the only candies and cookies I got for Valentines Day… My mother giving me candy doesn't count, does it? Hopefully this chapter was as amazing as the last!

Eryl- Was that enough angst for you? And more MurtaghEragon is coming up- in a big way! Let me just say that chapter 5C will be very interesting… and Chapter 6 (when I get around to writing it) even more so!

CaramelBoost- So Krin was good? I got a lot of compliments on him… I hate using OCs, so if I must, why not make them memorable and at least semi-believable? I tried keeping everyone in character- one of the hardest parts about writing fanfiction, at least for me! Hope you enjoyed this just as much!

Kaylen- Murtagh is definitely strong- and I could not just ignore the poor guy! A lot of people have complimented me on that moment where Eragon and Murtagh's eyes met and Murtagh smiled. It's all the little things, sometimes, that make a difference. A lot of people like Krin too, which I was surprised but pleased about. (I wasn't entirely certain that everyone would stick with this through the slew of OCs I'm using! I felt that I couldn't just ignore Krin, but I also didn't want him to steal the show.) I also needed to keep Nasuada mentioned- it would just be odd if I only brought her in when I really needed her and otherwise ignored her. She deserves a bit more than that, and a good leader is always thought of by her people, especially one of her strongest members, and even more so when said member has pledged service to her. Don't worry so much about the PM- I'm just glad to hear from you again! Getting a large workload can be tough, but freer times are ahead! Somewhere, at least. Please do PM me when you have the free time! We've been having some snow here too, but not nearly as much as by where you live. (Enough to have two snow days this year, when we haven't had one for the past twenty years.) I'll try to keep my writing up to everyone's standard!

FangedWriter- I hope you liked this chapter just as much! So happy you liked Krin (at least a little) as well. I couldn't just leave him alone, especially not considering I'm going to be borrowing him later… But that's for another time!

Gloria Monday – Before I forget- congratulations on being reviewer number 100! I'm still partially in shock that this story has reached so many reviews… If it helps, I have the same soft spot for young men with dark pasts- it's one of the reasons that I'm a major Murtagh fangirl, and not Eragon! It's okay that you threw a hissy fit over grammar- if I caught that, I would have done the same thing! I'm surprised it slipped by both myself and my beta- I'm big on grammar as well, and I used to automatically correct anyone who misused a word, especially if they misused it in writing. My writing style is like Paolini's? That makes me feel special! (And yes, he does write like a fanfiction author. An experienced once, but a fanfic author, nonetheless. Eragon is just a Gary Stue (male version of a Mary Sue- I'm not sure if the term applies only to anime fanfiction- if it does, then I'll be more than happy to provide a definition for it next chapter!) Hope you had a great Valentines Day!

Xximxnottheone- I'll keep it up as best I can! I hope you continue to enjoy it just as much!

Nefalkariel- You probably would have been disappointed had you flamed me- I save satire pieces for first flames I get on a story and usually ignore the rest! I'm so happy you're enjoying this! (It's quite refreshing to have someone admit that they wanted to flame me just to see how I would respond- it's almost like an honor, and I have the same streak of curiosity and mischief that you seem to possess.) Thank you so much- and you're totally right- EragonxMurtagh is so rare a pairing, and multichapter fics about those two even rarer. I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much!

Geek Squared 1307- A lot of people seemed to enjoy that part of the chapter. It makes me feel special! Happy reading and writing to you too!

Aisling-Siobhan – Don't worry about being late- I'm happiest when people just read it and enjoy the story. If they leave with a smile on their face or tears in their eyes (depending on what I was trying to bring out) then I have done my job by everyone. If they leave a review, that's just a bonus. A very nice bonus. Thank you so much for reading and enjoying the story!

Mantineus – Don't worry about apologizing for being late with a review- it's enough each chapter that you read and enjoy it! I'm happy so long as people stick with it, regardless if they leave a review. I won't deny that I like reviews, but they're not my entire motivation! I hope you enjoyed this just as much!

October Morning – Love the name- I wanted to say that right off the bat. October is one of my favorites months, since it's the month of my birth and all. It's also the month of Halloween- one of my favorite holidays! Anyway, getting to the actual reply of your review- such high praise makes me blush! Don't apologize for just reviewing this now- I write for the people to read it and walk away happy. I write to contribute something good to my chosen fandom, especially when there is a severe lack of fics with my favorite pairing- getting praise is just a very nice bonus. Like whipped cream on top of a sundae. (I would say cherry, but I don't like cherries, and I would say nuts, but I don't like those either. Thus, I say whipped cream!) I'm so happy you've read Bowling and Always as well! I hoped you enjoyed them- Always was my first stab at this pairing, and I guess I did a decent job on it! Bowling was just a product of too many movies… I know the feeling, by the way, of wanting to leave a review but being pressed for time. I read a lot of stories, and any exceptional ones I find I review- it just really stinks when it's late at night or early in the morning, because then I never have the time! (High school schedule- I'm always running!) I figured that Krin needed at least a little bit of an explanation- I don't like it when characters are two-dimensional, so I figured that (since I use him later) he needed a bit more depth. Angst, I've found, is always a good thing to have a in a story. It does make a story better- couldn't tell you exactly how, but it does help a story. Anything romantic without angst is fun when you're in the mood for just pure romantic fluff, but the stories that stay with you are ones with angst! A lot of people liked Krin, and a lot of people commented on that moment when Murtagh and Eragon's eyes met. (It's the little things, sometimes, in stories that are the most memorable, and the ones that really add to the story!) I'm a Murtagh fangirl too- shh, don't tell! Thank you kindly for braving the week-long waits! I'll try to keep this on schedule!

ILoveMyAttitudeProblem – I love the name. Seriously! I hope I updated soon enough for you- did you enjoy this chapter just as much as the previous one? I try to make every chapter count, and everything good, but it's feedback from everyone that lets me know how I did!


	9. Visitation

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**Last week:**

Yawning, he turned under the covers. With one last nuzzle closer to his pillow, he fell asleep.

_Pale, callused hand holding his._

_Playful kisses, a reward._

_His head resting on a strong chest as he fell asleep smiling._

_"Eragon..."_

_Knowing the words, but treasuring them all the same._

_"I..."_

And now, this weeks installment!

In Dreams V, Part C 

When Eragon woke up the next morning, it felt as though only a moment had passed since he had last shut his eyes. He had gotten no rest from his sleep, but pushed himself out of bed anyway to get dressed for the day.

As he had the previous day, he moved to his wardrobe and grabbed a brown outfit, carefully avoiding the black or the red. He left the unworn pajamas on the floor, quickly discarding his rumpled clothes and pulling on his fresh, clean clothes.

Only then did his mind catch up enough for him to realize he didn't know what to do with himself for the day.

He refused to go into town, which left him with very few options.

He contemplated his sword, resting against the far wall of his room.

'I could spar with some of the others.' he thought doubtfully- none of the men were his match. It would be like watching the largest kid on the playground bully the littlest child, only more brutal. The last time he had had a decent spar was in Du Weldenvarden, and before that the only one who could best him in swords after Brom's death...

He quickly turned his attention to his bow, lying innocently next to his sword. His quiver lay beside it, stacked full of arrows he could use for practice.

It would be an easy, mindless task- he had been shooting arrows long before he had picked up the blade, and was even more skilled at archery than with a sword. He would achieve nothing more than wasting his arrows, and he couldn't afford to let his mind wander. It would be too easy for it to wander into dangerous territory.

He could visit Saphira and Thorn but he would find no refuge there. Saphira would ask questions about why he had kept her from his mind as of late, and Thorn had yet to speak to Eragon. While the blue Rider did feel bad about neglecting Saphira, he couldn't face her today.

He had seen much of Orrin's castle- most of what he had left unexplored were laboratories, and Nasuada had warned him long ago not to set foot in one unless he wanted to lose said foot.

What, then, was there for him to do?

Sighing in frustration, he quickly cinched his swordbelt about his waist and pulled his quiver and bow over his back. He headed for the training field, hoping to find distraction there.

**Insert Line**

Eragon had just exited the castle doors when a messenger ran up to him. He turned to face the approaching figure, hope blooming in his chest. Perhaps he would have something of worth to do that day after all...

The brown-haired girl stopped just feet from the castle doors, standing tall as she addressed him.

"Sir, Lady Nasuada would like to speak with you. I am to take you to her." she said, bowing slightly. "If you'll follow me?"

He nodded, moving back into the castle he had just left in hopes of entertainment.

He followed the girl across the large lobby, up one of the curved stone staircases and down a small hallway he had overlooked in his wanderings about the castle the other night.

They continued walking down the hall. As they moved, Eragon noticed that the decorations got brighter and more detailed. One gold statue of an angel with life-size wings must have cost a small fortune. It seemed as though the fabulous creature could come alive at any moment.

After several minutes of viewing gaudier and more expensive hall decorations as the corridor stretched on, the messenger stopped in front of a thick oaken door and knocked.

"My Lady, Rider Eragon is here to see you." she called. They waited.

"Bring him in." Nasuada's voice was slightly muffled by the heavy wood, but still clearly audible.

The messenger pushed the door open, stepping inside to hold it for Eragon as he entered the room. As soon as he was clear of the door, she turned, bowed to Nasuada, and left.

The door closed behind her with a dull 'clunk'.

All was silent for a minute. Eragon looked at the leader of the Varden.

She sat behind a desk, covered in all kinds of paperwork, ink, and pens. Two small wooden chairs were in front of the desk, probably for visitors. She seemed tired, with dark circles under her eyes despite the fact that they had just arrived two days ago. She seemed to be scribbling several notes on various sheets of paper, most likely important things considering the Varden's finances.

Finally, she looked up.

"Good- you're here." She said, despite the fact that a messenger had just announced his presence. She motioned to one of the chairs in front of her desk, indicating for him to sit down.

The brunette stepped forward, sliding a chair out. He slung his quiver and bow off his back, setting them down next to his chair and then sat down, shifting a bit to try and make himself comfortable on the hard wood.

Nasuada leaned back in her chair. The silence stretched.

Finally, the leader of the Varden spoke.

"I thought you should know that the elves should be here within a week. Queen Islanzadi sent several of her best magicians to help." Nasuada took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she relaxed back into her chair.

"Arya informed me by messenger pigeon a few hours ago, and I thought you'd like to know."

"That's wonderful." Eragon said. He meant it too. While other people had doubts, he was certain that- with the elves help- Murtagh would be freed.

He waited, knowing that there was more to this meeting. Nasuada would not have called him just to tell him that the elves were near.

Again, there was a pregnant pause, but Eragon didn't interrupt the silence this time.

Finally, Nasuada sighed.

"I've also decided to give you permission to visit your brother, if you so desire." she finally said.

"What?" Eragon asked, dumbstruck. The word had fallen out of his mouth before he could stop it, but his sentiments were fully behind it.

Of all things she could have told him, this was the most unexpected. It ranked right up there with 'Durza has come back from the dead and is now our ally against Galbatorix in the fight for freedom.'

Yeah, right.

"I might have been too hasty with what I almost sentenced him too." Nasuada said, face softening as they both remembered that she had nearly ordered the red Rider's execution. "And you obviously care about him enough to risk your goodwill among the Varden to see that he wasn't killed."

Eragon's mouth suddenly went dry.

'She's thinking of this is different terms.' he told himself swiftly, trying and failing to reassure himself. 'To her, we're only brothers.'

Still, he couldn't help but think that Nasuada's gaze seemed a bit more knowing than it should. He tried to convince himself it was only paranoia, but...

There was still that intelligent gleam in her eyes.

"Th-thanks." he mumbled, stumbling slightly over the word. He stood, avoiding eye contact with Nasuada as he collected his bow and quiver, turning to exit the suddenly cramped room.

He could feel her eyes on his back- it felt as if they followed him all the way to his room, and only when he shut his door behind him did he begin breathing normally again.

The room had already been cleaned he noticed, absently moving over to the far wall to put his weapons back against it. Once free of them, he moved into the small attached bathroom to splash himself with cold water.

He leaned over the stone basin, the liquid dripping off his face.

He hadn't even considered the possibility...

But why would he have? As far as he knew, Murtagh was still a high-security prisoner. Visiting his brother hadn't even crossed his mind, but now that he had permission it didn't seem so far-fetched.

Not even questioning his motives, he rubbed his face clean and looked up onto the reflective pane of glass hanging above the washbasin.

His hair was untidy, but at least his face was clean.

He began running a hand through his hair, trying to lessen the common 'bed-head' effect of lying down. Slowly, his hair started to lie properly and he realized what he was doing.

Disgusted, he ran his hand roughly through his hair, but this time purposely messed it up. Satisfied with himself- he looked back in the mirror, and the brown strands indeed looked a mess- he turned out of the bathroom, bypassing his weapons and cloak as he headed down to the dungeons.

**Insert Line**

His footsteps seemed to echo louder as he walked down the long stone staircase.

It had taken him several minutes to find the right staircase, as he hadn't even gone near the dungeons in his previous exploration of the castle. Eventually, he had asked a passing maid who had kindly directed him to the proper set of steps.

As he descended into the cool darkness, he started rethinking his decision.

His footsteps faded into silence as his steps slowed, coming to a full halt halfway down the wide staircase. The choice to come seemed rather impulsive, as he looked back on it.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the worse the idea seemed.

'What was I thinking?'

He was about to turn around and go back up the stairs- despite his lack of entertainment- when a voice stopped him.

"Who's there?"

The deep voice- accompanied by the sound of a wooden chair scraping the floor as the occupant stood- echoed up the staircase.

The blue Rider sighed, walking down the rest of the steps. He couldn't see the guard that had spoken- just beyond the end of the stairs the wall took a sharp turn to the right, effectively shutting the majority of the dungeon off from view of anyone who happened to walk by.

He could hear the guard around the bend shifting nervously in his armor- the sound of cloth rubbing against the metal was unmistakable- as he turned.

As he had suspected, the guard- Eruka, much to his surprise- had stood at the sound of his approaching footsteps, and had also drawn his sword in case he had been an enemy. Eruka was tense, not relaxing until Eragon had stepped into the flickering light cast by a torch on the wall. The warm glow was not nearly enough to brighten up the whole area, but it was sufficient to light the small table and chair the guard on duty would sit at, and one of the nearby cells.

Eruka sheathed his blade, shoulders dropping as the apprehensive tension left his body.

"Lord Eragon. Lady Nasuada told me to expect you, sir." Eruka bowed, though he still seemed oddly tense.

Chains could be heard, clacking loudly against metal and the stone floor off to Eragon's left. A light fluttering went through Eragon's stomach at the sound- he knew that there was only one person down here, one person who could have made that noise.

'Murtagh.' Anticipation and excitement shot through him, even as he tried to curb the reaction.

Eruka straightened, then turned to the partially lit cell he had been guarding. The blue Rider's eyes sought out the figure within the cell, but Eragon forced his eyes away before he could make out more than a vague shape in the dimness.

The guard fumbled with several keys before apparently locating the correct one, jamming the rusty metal into the keyhole with a metallic 'squeak' and turning it. The door clicked open, the rusty hinges squealing like pigs as Eruka pulled the cell door open to allow Eragon entrance.

Eragon nodded thankfully, though his smile was a bit forced. Anxiety was beginning to wear through his excited feelings, and he was unsure how Murtagh would react to his visit. Eruka returned the nod, closing the door noisily behind the Rider (though he did leave it unlocked) and turning to go.

"If you need me, I'll be around the corner, sir." Eruka offered, boots clomping loudly on the stone floor of the dungeon as he walked away from the small cell Eragon now stood in.

"Thanks." the Rider called after the guard, but received no reply.

He hadn't really expected one.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon moved his eyes from the floor- it was so interesting, far more interesting that seeing his brother for the first time in days, of course it was- to where the figure of the prisoner could be seen.

No sound of chains had been heard since he had stepped into the cell- likely, the red Rider was just as shocked by Eragon's presence as the blue Rider was surprised to be there.

Mustering his courage, Eragon looked directly at his brother. Immediately, his mouth went dry.

It really shouldn't have surprise him- he knew that Murtagh would most likely have been given a bath upon arrival. If not out of kindness for the prisoner, then out of kindness for the guards- no one smelled pretty after a week of harsh traveling. Eragon also knew that Murtagh's clothes would probably have been destroyed, and that he would be given something new to wear.

Considering this, it really shouldn't have surprised him that Murtagh was dressed only in a pair of old cotton pants, but it did.

From the way Murtagh was sitting- his feet firmly planted on the ground, legs out in a V-shape with his back leaning against the cool stone wall with his chained arms folded over his knees- his chest was mostly covered, but more than enough showed to prove that the red Rider was shirtless.

Manacles were strapped to Murtagh's wrists, heavy chains anchoring him to the wall. The slack dragged on the ground, scraping lightly against the stone with every movement of the red Rider. Similar manacles were attached around his ankles, anchoring Murtagh to the floor with chain to spare.

The torchlight from just outside the cell walls flickered over the pale skin, giving the whole scenario a dream-like tone, and making the chained man that much more alluring.

Eragon forced his eyes from the pale chest visible past Murtagh's crossed arms, jerking his gaze to meet confused hazel eyes.

As soon as he identified the confusion, it was gone. Pale lips twisted up in a small smile.

Eragon was reminded of the slight, reassuring smile Murtagh had given him days ago, on the road to Aberon.

"Hello brother."

How long had it been since he had heard that voice?

Eragon swallowed, some moisture returning to his throat as he spoke.

"Hello Murtagh."

Silence stretched uncomfortably between them, broken only by the clank of chains as Murtagh moved, and the seemingly distant rustle of armor as Eruka- just feet from the cell, around the corner- shifted.

Eragon opened his mouth to speak, but his thoughts kept getting jumbled as his brother moved, accidentally revealing more pale chest to wide brown eyes.

It was the red Rider who finally broke the silence.

"I suppose I should thank you."

"Thank me?" The words had left his mouth without conscious consent of his mind, but the question was innocent enough and Eragon was truly curious. "For what?"

"You saved my life. That is a not a debt easily repaid." The pale man's eyes moved from Eragon to looking outside of his cell. "Had you not intervened back there, both Thorn and I would be dead."

Hazel eyes met his again, and Eragon had to look away.

Those eyes... it was impossible to look and not drown in them.

"I didn't do it for you." Eragon told the other man. "It was just... The Varden could use more powerful allies, and..." His voice trailed off, his point lost in his jumbled reasoning, proving the point he had attempted to deny.

Much to the blue Rider's relief, Murtagh chose not to comment further on that matter.

"How's Thorn?"

"We're taking good care of him." Eragon replied, tone slightly defensive at the demanding, almost worried tone Murtagh's voice had taken on. "He's under Saphira's guard- he hunts and eats as she does, and they are housed in the same building. He won't talk to anyone but Saphira though."

Murtagh laughed slightly, chains clanking as he shifted again. Unconsciously, Eragon moved closer to the wall opposite Murtagh, trying to keep his thoughts and eyes off of the pale chest that was constantly shown to him.

"At least he still has his pride. Your men have done their best to strip me of that."

The red Rider gestured to his chains with one hand, the innocent move exposing much more of the well-defined chest than Eragon had had the privilege to glimpse thus far in their talk. Brown eyes caught sight of slightly protruding ribs- not very obvious, but enough to indicate that Murtagh had yet to put back on the weight he had lost while being starved by Krin and the other guards. A pang of worry went through his body, but by the time he had formulated a comment, Murtagh's arm had returned to crossing the other and Eragon's nerve was lost.

And seeing so much naked flesh was doing strange things to his stomach.

Abruptly, Eragon decided that his second thoughts on the stairs had been correct- this had been a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

"I should go." he said, stuttering slightly as he turned away from his brother and reached a slightly shaking hand for the cell door.

Metal screeched as chains scraped against stone and metal- Eragon didn't need to look to know that Murtagh was now standing, but his gaze was drawn as if by a magnet.

The slack for the chains holding Murtagh's arms only stretched so far, allowing the red Rider to stand up but not much else. His arms were held firmly down at his sides. The leg chains were slightly more forgiving, allowing Murtagh a single step closer to the blue Rider before he was held in place, one foot slightly in front of the other. The cotton pants he wore were slung low on his hips, looking almost as if they would slide completely off his body at any second. His naked upper body was now on full display, chest puffed out slightly as Murtagh strained against the chains holding him back.

It was though something had flipped a switch in Eragon's mind- all the thoughts he had been successfully repressing were now flooding his mind at the sight of his brother's revealed flesh. With a sinking heart, Eragon realized memories of his dreams could not be far behind.

"You haven't met my eyes for more than a moment since you came here, and now you're leaving." Murtagh's voice was low, and Eragon could not pick out the emotions heating the words with some unnamed passion. "Look at me, brother."

_"I want to see your face..."_

Eragon froze, eyes on his brother's body as unwanted dreams flooded back into memory, taunting him.

Now was the worst time to be having flashbacks and remembering such things, but they persisted even as he tried to banish them from his mind. Even as he tried to stem the flow and dam the river of memories, they kept coming just as strongly.

_Pressure. Pain._

Eragon nearly choked on the air as the images intensified. Knowing he would be unable to stop them- he couldn't even move, frozen by fearful longing- he prayed that his distress wasn't visible to Murtagh.

Until his limbs decided to allow his motion again, he was paralyzed and powerless.

_Strong hand in his._

_Gentle reassurances._

"Are you ashamed of me?"

Murtagh's angry voice temporarily broke through the haze created by the images- the blue Rider was grateful for the reprieve until his brother's question sunk in.

"What?" He knew his voice was shocked and his inquiry stupid, but the word had escaped him before he had a chance to form a complete thought.

_Full. Complete._

_Pleasure._

The dreams whirled around in his mind, playing out like a video with him strapped to a chair and forced to watch.

He had hoped that he would have been able to see his brother without his dreams rearing their ugly heads, but he should have known that hope had been in vain.

_Movement._

_Gasps. Moans._

_Endearments._

_Sweetest tension._

Jerking his eyes up from Murtagh's chest- unable to say when his gaze had fixed upon the smooth, pale skin- he noted that the red Rider's lips were moving. He could hear the sound, but the words were of little consequence to his fantasy-soaked mind.

He tried to concentrate on the words spoken, catching only some of the words.

Their eyes met.

"Are you ashamed to have me as your brother?"

_Closer._

_Bad and good and pleasure and pain..._

_Closer._

"You are not a brother to me." an odd, strangely sad voice uttered.

Dead silence.

With horror, Eragon realized it had been his voice that had spoken those words- those damning words.

While the phrase itself may have seemed cruel, the tone the blue Rider spoke in said volumes about the reality of the situation.

_Breathy moans._

_Wordless gasps._

Strange longing mixed with pain and even need had made up the raw emotion in the sentence. It was impossible for anyone to believe Eragon's feelings ran strictly in hate for the red Rider.

Impossible for anyone to mistake the emotion as being strictly platonic. Impossible to take the true words back, as much as Eragon wished to recall them.

"Eragon..." Shock. Uncertainty.

_"Eragon..."_

_Release._

_Collapse._

_Embrace._

His limbs suddenly seemed capable of movement again. Frightened by what he had just revealed, Eragon pushed himself into action, shoving the cell door open with a loud squeal of the rusty hinges and darting out and away from the man still trapped in the cell.

Eragon shoved the loud door closed behind him, not daring to look back in case his body froze again. He ignored the sound of his brother calling his name as he darted down the short hallway, turning the corner quickly and smiling at Eruka in thanks as he raced up the stairs.

Eruka had a bewildered expression as he watched the blue Rider run past, but it mattered little. Eragon wasn't certain if the guard had been close enough to hear the last part of their conversation, when he had damned himself with one thoughtless sentence, but he probably hadn't been.

Comforted slightly by the thought, the brunette's pace slowed only after reaching the top of the stone steps. Instead of racing through the halls to his room, he kept his head down and walked quickly until he was outside a familiar doorway.

He turned the knob, nearly falling into his room in the attempt to find himself on safe ground again.

He shut the door behind himself as soon as he was far enough in. As the loud 'slam' echoed through the room, he could almost hear another sound...

_Whisper._

_"I..."_

He threw himself down on his bed, boots and all, more miserable than he could ever remember being.

Had he ever decided to speak of his abnormality to anyone, Murtagh would not have been his first choice- his brother wouldn't even be on the list. Had he ever decided to speak of who he loved and dreamt of, it would not have been to Murtagh.

'"You are not a brother to me."'

If only those words had come out harshly- cruel words would have caused a rift, most definitely, but in time those harsh words would have been forgotten, and Eragon forgiven.

The desire he held was something even he himself abhorred. No one would forgive him for this.

Berating himself for letting his impulses and heart take over what should have been a brain function, he flipped over onto his back to face the ceiling.

Loving Murtagh like he did... that was something he couldn't stop just yet. As much as he wanted to, it would take time for his mind to convince his heart that being in love with his brother was wrong.

Uneasy and- though he would never admit it- unhappy with his decision to pretend the conversation in Murtagh's cell had never happened, and that he felt no more for Murtagh than anyone felt for kin, he sat up. It was still much too early in the day for sleep, besides the fact that Eragon knew he would be unable to.

He moved so he was sitting cross-legged on his messy bed, hands resting on his knees as he began to clear his mind.

Oromis- his elven teacher- had taught his meditation and Eragon was quite skilled at it by now. Perhaps the oblivion of being one with everything else, instead of just himself, for a while would help calm his heart, mind, and body.

It was not much, but it was worth a try. As the haze of emotions drifted from his mind, Eragon allowed himself a small smile.

He allowed his mind to separate itself from his worldly woes, and his consciousness drifted into a stream of white light as he stopped being 'Eragon' and became everything, from the smallest mouse to the largest horse. He still retained enough of himself to avoid the dragons, as well as the dungeon area he could sense as he merged with the rocks of the castle as well.

All consciousness, all worry, all thought... stopped.

He was free, if only for a little while.

TBC 

A/N: Did anyone predict that Nasuada would give such permission- or that the meeting between Eragon and Murtagh would go the way it did? Poor Eragon- he just can't keep his mouth shut sometimes, can he?

Next Week: Something a certain character said will be put into play next chapter- let's make some new friends, shall we? Ten points (not that the points matter- that's right, the points don't matter at all!) to whoever guesses who said the phrase giving you all the information you need to guess what happens next week! (I think it's fairly obvious, but then again, I wrote it!)

Review Replies!

Thebrunetteditz- Thank you, and thank you again! I'm so happy you liked it- shows me my writing is worth something, at least! I try my best! Hopefully this cured some of you anxiety about Murtagh and Eragon speaking… not that you were anxious, not at all… (smiles)

October Morning – I know you can't see, but I'm blushing. Seriously- I'm so happy you liked it! I always try to put in enough detail to make things descriptive and to create a picture, but I don't try to go on and on about silly little details… And not only do YOU want that wardrobe, I want it… I'm happy you liked the description of the clothes- I figure if I have to describe them anyway, why not make it interesting? Besides, the colors lend themselves very well to angst! I agree with you- eyes are wonderful things. I personally love eyes- one of the main things I look for in another person, since eyes can mean so much and be so expressive!- and so I always use eye expression somewhere in my stories. Besides, eyes are easy to use instead of 'he', 'she', or the person's name or nickname. It keeps the story from being repetitive. I hope you continue enjoying this just as much!

Shauna- Your internet failed? I hate it when that happens- especially when there's something I really wanted to do! So the angst was good? I'm particularly proud of that chapter myself, especially since pretty boys angsting is so fun… Was this good M/E interaction? I'll try to post on time next time- I wanted to post yesterday, but my teachers gave a lot of homework. I'm glad you like Nasuada- she's cool, so I like pulling her out every now and again!

CaramelBoost- I know it's sad, but it's true. I'm trying to keep him as IC as possible while still trying to show how horrible this world can be to homosexuals. I haven't been able to bring lots of homophobia into the story, but at least I can use flashbacks, ne?

FangedWriter- The marketplace was just fun to write- and I was pretty sure that no one saw THAT coming. Besides, it sets up something later on…

phycoticlover04 – It's not something that can be over so quickly, but yes they do get together. I couldn't end my story until they did! I'm flattered by the compliment as well- it's always nice to hear I did something right!

Gloria Monday – I was so happy when I checked and found out that I got so many reviews too! I could hardly believe it! As for the whole marketplace thing- one, so happy you liked it! Two, remember Eragon grew up in rural Alagaesia, and he's now in urban Surda. Two different countries, so they'll have different policies, so hopefully that difference is a bit more believable now! I also rarely venture from the anime section- of all my fics (somewhere in the thirties total, though not all are posted here) only 5 are from series other than anime.

Kaylen- A lot of people seem to like that wardrobe! (smiles) If only it existed- if it has, I haven't seen it. Lots of people liked the marketplace scene too- and I must admit that was probably the part I most enjoyed writing for that chapter. As for Nasuada- were you right? Did you know what she was going to say?

Eryl- I love Surda- and Chris Paolini never DID show us a clear picture of the place. I figured I was free to take some liberty! I hope you enjoyed Murtagh and Eragon's chat- I know you've been waiting!

Geek Squared 1307 – Aw, you're making me blush! I couldn't just play with Eragon and not have him angst- he really needed the kick in the pants, so to speak. This way- you're totally right- he has to really think about what he wants, and we have to see if he can let go of what had been drilled into his mind since he was young once inside a friendly environment and with someone that li-ikes him! (singsong voice!) This story was mainly a product of many videos I saw on homophobia- I just got so angry with everyone that took part in bashing homosexuals, so I figured it was high time I did a fanfic with a semi-realistic portrayal of such things. (Besides, this gives me a good way to vent anger at everyone who is homophobic- I can simply beat the homophobic idiots to a bloody pulp in this story, or at least make them see the error of their ways…)

Mantineus- (bows) Thank you! It just makes me so happy you like it! Having such a loyal reader is nice- one of the best compliments I could get!


	10. Elves

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Note: I just changed Varin's name to Vanir, since I made a mistake when first uploading this chapter. Nothing else has been changed. 

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Tjay Motou! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

Good news and bad news at the end of this chapter, in the author's note. (And before anyone panics, the bad news is NOT that I won't finish this. I WILL finish this story, don't fret!)

**Last week:**

He allowed his mind to separate itself from his worldly woes, and his consciousness drifted into a stream of white light as he stopped being 'Eragon' and became everything, from the smallest mouse to the largest horse. He still retained enough of himself to avoid the dragons, as well as the dungeon area he could sense as he merged with the rocks of the castle as well.

All consciousness, all worry, all thought... stopped.

He was free, if only for a little while.

And now, this weeks installment!

**In Dreams V, Part D**

Eragon spent the next several days doing everything in his power to keep himself busy, avoiding going outside the castle gates and avoiding the dungeons. He did not even go near the steps for fear that his feet would take him down the stone stairs.

He trained himself to the point of exhaustion. He practiced fighting multiple opponents and shooting multiple targets with one draw of his bow. The men were hardly a match for him, and the targets easy prey, but Eragon threw himself into the work whole-heartedly. Any pain he received was welcome as a distraction, and whenever he was off the training field he was healing himself or meditating. The white void had become a refuge for him, allowing him to be whole without being himself.

Often, too, he practiced magic in his room, shortening the length of the sentences needed to create spells until he could do even the most complex magic with but a few whispered words.

If anyone noticed his odd behavior, no one commented.

He visited Saphira daily, but conversation between then was strained with the weight of the secrets the Rider had to keep. The sapphire dragon had tried to pry into his mind once, but Eragon had quickly stopped the attempt. He had been so angry with her- despite the fact he knew it was concern and worry that motivated the act, he refused to speak to her for days after. Eventually, his better judgement prevailed, and he went back to speaking to Saphira. Neither mentioned her attempted break into his guarded thoughts, but neither forgot the incident.

Six days into the routine, it was broken.

Eragon had been on his way to visit Saphira when he was pulled aside by a messenger. It was the same brown-haired girl that had pulled him aside before, and just as she had last time she carried a message from Nasuada.

"Sir, Lady Nasuada wishes to see you in her office." She delivered the message with a low bow, straightening and folding her arms behind her back as she waited for some form of a response. The wait wasn't long.

Eragon nodded, motioning for her to lead with a wave of his hand. Hopefully this message from Nasuada would provide a better distraction than the last had.

It wasn't a far walk, as Eragon had gotten no farther than the small entrance hall before being pulled aside. As they traversed the rich corridors, Eragon distantly took note of the luxurious surroundings. They didn't seem nearly as impressive as the first time he had walked this way.

Scant minutes after his routine had been interrupted, he reached the large wooden door that the head of the Varden's office lay behind.

As she had last time, the girl knocked and announced his presence, but there was something odd this time around. Eragon frowned. After his elven training, he had learned to be extraordinarily aware of his surroundings, and his senses were telling him that not one but two people were behind the door. One was Nasuada, but the other...

'An elf and magic user.'

Eragon barely heard Nasuada's reply to the messenger's call as realization hit him.

A warm smile spread over his face.

'"...the elves should be here within a week..."'

It wasn't surprising, therefore, to see a head of silky black hair as the door swung open. Delicate-looking pointed ears were visible behind the ebony strands as the figure seated in the chair turned to face him.

The elf was, as usual, dressed in plain black leather. The tunic was sleeveless, as to allow free movement of her arms, the bottom of the shirt hanging several inches below her waist. A belt was secured around her waist, usually to hold the sword Eragon could see leaning against her chair. Her bow and quiver- usually hung over her back within easy reach- were next to the deadly blade. The design of her pants was simple, the soft leather loose around her legs, but not loose enough for them to slip. A soft cloak hung over the back of her chair, the dark green material partially covered in dirt from the road.

Arya nodded respectfully to Eragon as he bowed slightly.

"Arya svit-kona." he greeted her, using the respectful term he had learned in Du Weldenvarden. "It is good to see you again." He straightened, repeating the slight bow to Nasuada as he guiltily remembered he had not done during his last meeting with the Varden's leader.

The dark-skinned woman just nodded, her small smile a bit strained even though she seemed a great deal more rested than last the Rider had seen her.

"And likewise to you, Eragon." Arya replied. She turned back to Nasuada as the blue Rider moved forward and sat in the free chair in front of the large desk the Varden's leader sat behind.

As soon as he was settled, Nasuada sighed and ran a hand through her slightly messy hair.

"I've called you both here to discuss our potential ally- Murtagh." she announced, looking pointedly at Eragon as she referred to the red Rider as a 'potential ally'. "Eragon, to bring you up to speed, I've been informing Arya of what my guards as well as you have been reporting, and she relayed information about what magicians Queen Islanzadi has lent us." Here, the dark-skinned woman paused for breath before continuing. "We're very lucky- the Queen was very generous with her resources since you are a friend of the elves. Arya has told me that several of their best magicians are now at the Varden's disposal until we manage to release Murtagh from his servitude, or..." Her voice trailed off, but she didn't need to finish the phrase. Eragon knew perfectly well what was forfeit if the magic binding Murtagh to Galbatorix's command was too strong.

"I've arranged a meeting between you and the magicians. As you have the most personal interest in this of anyone in the Varden beside myself, it will be your responsibility to discuss this with them. You have also known Murtagh much longer than I- you are best suited to this task, and my duties to my people don't allow me the time it will take for this." Nasuada took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly.

"I have also given the guards notice about the elves. You may not remove Murtagh from his cell, but every magician working on this will be given freedom to speak with him. You will keep me informed of your progress, and once a solution is found I am to be told." Her tone allowed for no argument, but the blue Rider had hardly planned on giving one.

Arya spoke next.

"Our meeting is scheduled for this afternoon. Most want to go back to our homes, and so we'll be starting promptly."

"I understand. I want to end this quickly as well." Eragon replied. Green eyes peered at him for a moment, slight curiosity in their depths, but a careful mask of neutrality quickly replaced the emotion.

"A servant will be sent to fetch you in your rooms when the elves are ready." Nasuada said, dismissing him with a small motion of her hand.

Eragon nodded, then stood, chair scraping the stone floor as he moved. With one last slight bow to both women, he turned and left the room.

Behind him, he could hear Arya and Nasuada talking quietly, but he couldn't make out the words.

The door shut behind him, the noise almost loud in the deserted hallway. Happiness as well as anticipation welled up inside of him. He was glad to see Arya- she was a dear friend, and he had fancied himself in love with her not long ago after all- but her coming also meant the conclusion to the question of Murtagh.

While her coming with the magicians of Du Weldenvarden could herald Murtagh's release, it could mean his death, and Eragon did not know what he'd do if his brother were to be executed.

Reflecting on the problem, he began walking back to his room to await the meeting that would be the first step in determining Murtagh's destiny.

**Insert Line**

The sun had not yet begun to set when a loud knock awoke Eragon from the light doze he had slipped into while waiting to be fetched for the meeting.

Shaking his head to clear out the muzziness that always accompanied such an awakening, he rubbed his eyes and stood. His mind slowly coming to full alertness, he called for the person who had knocked to enter. Quietly, the door opened and soft footsteps sounded.

Eragon glanced at the messenger as her footsteps muted after she had walked several feet into the room. She bowed, long brown hair falling over her shoulders.

"Sir Eragon, I've been sent to fetch you for a meeting. When you are prepared, I shall lead you to the room." She straightened again, flipping her hair over her shoulders in an absent gesture. The messenger then folded her arms behind her back, standing still as she waited for instructions.

Eragon took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it silently.

This was it.

"Lead the way."

The girl nodded, turning on her heel. She pushed the door open, holding it for Eragon before continuing down the stone hallway. Their boots made soft noises on the floor, but their short trek was otherwise silent.

The room they eventually stopped in front of had a large oak door, situated just a floor below Eragon's own room and several hallways to the right. The corridor that held it was long, each end disappearing into distant beams of light from the windows. The floor of the hallway was bare, all the decoration in the form of abstract paintings along the walls.

The girl leading him didn't bother knocking at this door, despite the low murmur of conversation Eragon could hear behind it. She pushed the door open, bowing respectfully to the occupants before turning and bowing to the blue Rider as she held the door open for him.

Eragon quickly moved into the room, noting the large circular table around which five elves sat, the extra chair- presumably left for Eragon himself- and the odd shape of the room. Instead of being square- like most rooms in Orrin's castle- the room seemed to be a near perfect circle, with several small paintings on the walls. Most, if Eragon had to judge, seemed to be one-foot squares with random splashes of color. Lit torches also lined the walls, providing more than enough light and heat for the whole room.

The Rider moved further forward into the room, sitting down on the free chair and moving himself closer to the table. He was uncomfortably aware of how each elf present was staring at him, but ignored the feeling until he was settled in his seat and he looked up.

He glanced around the table. One face he recognized instantly- Arya, who was still dressed as he had seen her earlier. Moving on to the elf seated next to her, his eyes widened as he saw the familiar, haughty face framed by smooth black locks. The tall, lithe elf had been his sparring partner during his stay at Du Weldenvarden, and Eragon could easily remember the mutual dislike between the two of them. Vanir had disliked him on sight, it had seemed, and the elf's attitude had not endeared him to the Rider at all.

Vanir was attired in a simple brown tunic, the color similar to tree bark after a long rain. For a moment, Eragon had thought the elf was dressed in black, but the light from the torches along the wall revealed the true color.

The pale elf proved that the dislike was still going strong as his crystal blue eyes met Eragon's coldly. The small amount of respect the Rider had earned from the elf meant Vanir did not look away in a deliberate snub, but it was obvious that Vanir was no friend to Eragon by the sheer amount of ice in his eyes.

Frowning slightly, Eragon's gaze moved to the slight female elf. She wasn't very tall, and her frame made her seem almost delicate despite the fact that the brunette knew she couldn't be helpless- Queen Islanzadi would not have sent her if she were.

She was obviously young- her face was heart-shaped and smooth, without so much as a hint of a wrinkle- but her hair was a bright silver color Eragon had rarely seen outside of Du Weldenvarden.

Her hair was done in a tight braid, but it was almost impossible to determine the length of her moonlight-colored hair as the braid had been wrapped around her head several times. A few strands hung over her grass-green eyes, but they didn't seem to bother her.

Her tunic was a fawn color, much lighter than Vanir's was.

Her eyes flicked to his face to meet his directly, but then she glanced down again towards the table.

Eragon's eyes moved to the next elf seated at the table.

This was yet another elf he didn't recognize- he was very tall, dwarfing the smaller female seated next to him easily. His hair was also silver, but more a shade of pure silver mined from the mountain ranges than moonlight. He, too, seemed young, his face unlined and unmarked by age.

Strands of hair fell around his face- no bangs fell into his eyes, but there were two long locks that fell just in front of his ears to his neck. The rest was loosely braided down the elf man's back, secured by a leather cord.

His eye were deep green- so dark they were almost black but for the small glimmer of green that reminded the Rider of the tall evergreen trees he had seen in the Spine. He wore a simple tunic of green as well, the color matching his eyes almost perfectly.

Finally, his eyes turned to the last elf in the room.

Eragon nearly fell out of his chair in shock.

"Master?" he asked incredulously. The familiar figure in pure white robes nodded his head. His hair- pure white with age- was cut to just barely brush his shoulders, and his dark eyes shone with dry humor.

"So my pupil remembers me." the old elf stated, his voice old and gravelly, with just a hint of mirth. Eragon- out of respect for the old elf- bowed his head as far as he could sitting down, which Oromis returned with a much slighter nod.

Having shown the proper respect- albeit belatedly- Eragon turned to Arya.

"Is everyone here?" he inquired. Arya nodded at the same time Vanir spoke.

"We were only waiting on you, Rider Eragon." The brunette just resisted the urge to glare at the dark-haired elf, trying to keep his mind on Arya and the far more important matter at hand.

"You have already met Oromis, Vanir, and myself," Arya stated, motioning to both male elves and then herself. "- but I do not believe you have been introduced to Svara-" At this, she indicated the small female elf, who inclined her head slightly. "- and Kyrin." The male elf also inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Pleased to meet you, Rider Eragon." Svara stated politely, her voice full but light, with a clear tone that could only be compared to the clarity of a hidden mountain lake.

"I am honored to meet you." Kyrin greeted, his voice deep but smooth.

"I am honored to meet you both, and I thank you all for coming." Eragon replied, looking at each elf in turn.

"We've called this meeting to discuss the problem of Murtagh. Some of us are anxious to get back home, so may we commence with the discussion?" Vanir interjected, tone carefully polite.

"After we inform the Rider of what he's working with." Svara replied, tone stern but not unkind. "We are to follow his wishes until such a time as we have finished the task appointed to us."

Vanir's face was carefully schooled into a mask of neutrality, but it was clear the elf was not enjoying his orders.

"Eragon," Arya broke the slight tension forming over the group, her voice cutting through it easily as a hot knife through butter. "My strength lies in wording spells and I was gifted with a good deal of power at birth. Vanir's strength lies in the amount of magic he was gifted with at birth- he and Kyrin are two of our strongest magicians. Svara has a talent for wording spells, and can recognize a good deal of them. Oromis- while unable to help us cast- has the most knowledge about spells and spell counters."

The dark-haired elf looked to the others then.

"Is that a satisfactory description?"

No one argued, just nodded in agreement.

"In order to complete our task quickly, we should meet this Murtagh soon." Kyrin stated logically. "If I may, I suggest we visit him tomorrow to begin our work."

"It should not take us long to decide if he can or cannot be saved." Oromis agreed. "I doubt we can do much before meeting him and seeing the exact nature of the vow that binds him to Galbatorix."

"For now, we should discuss the possibilities." Vanir added. "I say we hear Eragon's observations to see if we can draw any solid conclusions from those before going to meet the prisoner tomorrow."

All eyes turned to the Rider, a few of the elves present murmuring their assent.

Eragon swallowed- the spotlight was not an easy place for him to be, especially on a matter that was so close to his heart.

"Murtagh has stated on several occasions that he does not wish to fight for Galbatorix." Eragon began. "Since that first battle on the Burning Plains of Surda, he had defied orders he was supposedly given many times. I have never heard the exact wording of an order given to him, but every time we had fought when he had orders to merely capture me, he allowed me to escape. It was only in our last battle- when he had orders to take my head- that he attempted to kill me, though I believe even then he held himself back." For a moment, Eragon allowed himself to think back to when he had just met Murtagh, before even reaching the Varden. The skills Murtagh had held then were better- marginally, but the brunette knew that that margin was the difference between the pale Rider winning or forfeiting.

"Has Murtagh said anything to that effect?" Svara asked. "Did he tell you that he was holding back, or are you just assuming?"

"It is an assumption, but I've sparred with him before he was captured by Galbatorix's men and there is a noticeable difference in the skill with which he fights." The slight female considered his words for a moment, apparently satisfied.

"What have you noticed of Murtagh's behavior while he is imprisoned?" Arya asked. She had been there as Nasuada had passed the sentence, but had left shortly after to gather magic users from among the elves.

Guiltily, Eragon looked down at the table.

"I don't think there have been any problems, but I have only been to visit him once. I have not heard any reports of his misconduct, and I doubt Murtagh would misbehave as hostility to any member of the Varden is forbidden."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arya's face morph into an expression of curiosity, but it was quickly buried behind a neutral mask once more.

"I see."

"Is there a possibility that Murtagh is pretending to switch to our side? Is there a possibility he might be willingly working for Gal-" Vanir began, but Eragon cut him off.

"No." The brunette shook his head vehemently. "Murtagh does not want to follow that mad king- of this I am certain. He has said as much."

All was quiet for several moments.

"I don't think any more will be accomplished tonight. Let us meet outside the dining hall after we break fast and from there we can visit the dungeons to assess the problem better. Trying to judge from one person's observations will not get us anywhere." Oromis stated, pushing himself out of his chair. It was strangely tense and silent in the room as the others followed suit.

Eragon pushed his chair back underneath the table, then turned and opened the door. He could feel one set of curious eyes on his back, but paid Arya's attention no heed as he left through the open doorway and headed back to his room.

He would need his strength for tomorrow, as he would have to keep control in front of a crowd of elves while interrogating his brother.

He would definitely need his strength.

As soon as the door to his room clicked shut behind him, he kicked off his boots and moved over to his bed. He collapsed onto the hard mattress tiredly, falling asleep in minutes as imaginings and dread of what tomorrow would bring swirled around his mind and his heart.

_Two dragons- one the color of blood, the other the color of the purest sapphire gem- danced._

_They dove, rose, and twisted as one- never close enough to touch, but close enough so that their dance was clearly being performed together._

_A small figure was visible on each dragon- the rider of the ruby beast clad all in black, while the blue dragon's rider wore dark brown._

_The figures reached out their left hands, small bands of gold sparkling on their ring fingers._

_Unable to reach, they leapt from the dragon's backs._

_Their hands connected as they fell together, but they only smiled at each other as they began falling slower and slower, until they landed gently on a small, grassy knoll. In the distance, the ruby and sapphire creatures touched down, the blue-scaled beast tucking her head beneath the head of the red dragon in a gesture of affection._

_The two riders had pulled closer during their fall, and the darkly clad one rolled atop the slightly smaller man that had ridden the sapphire dragon._

_They did not need their mouths to speak the words both already knew, as their lips and hearts connected._

_Still, as they broke apart, the ruby dragon's rider spoke._

_"Eragon, I..."_

TBC…

A/N: Heh… sorry, I know this chapter was kind of boring… It had to be written though. Hopefully the dream sequence at the end made up for it a little…? I know it wasn't how I usually write the dreams, but my beta liked it- I hope you all did too!

Bad news: Chapter 6 isn't being nice and letting me pen it, so it may be a while before the next chapter comes out. On the other hand, Spring Break is next week! I have a whole week away from school and at least some of that time shall be spent on this since I have been (cringe) sadly neglecting this fic… I PROMISE I will finish it! Have no fear- it shall be completed before I'm a high school senior (I graduate in 2009- go me!) or my penname isn't Bookkbaby!

Next Week: While the next chapter hasn't been written yet, I know a certain someone who might just have a spell broken and get out of jail free! Plus, there MAY be some more ExM interaction, but that might come later in Chapter 6… Lets just say the best is yet to come!

Review Replies (Hopefully, none of you now want to kill me…)

Geek Squared 1307- Thank you so much! I loved writing the ExM interaction, so I'm glad it was fun to read! Congrats on being the first to review Chapter 5C! Hopefully you liked this and will like Chapter 6 when it comes out… (Chapter 6 will need to be split up, I know that much…)

eryl – Was Gladiator a movie? I think it was… (anime-style sweatdrop). I'm usually in my own little world, but that's okay, they know me there! I'm so happy you enjoyed it- and don't worry, Eragon stops being such a sissy about this later on…

chiri – Yup- it was cool to update regularly, but I'm afraid something called the 'Real World' (shudders) has caught up with me. I had the first five chapter written by the time Chapter 2 was posted, but then I ran into a dry spell…

twitchy of the lying sluts- Thanks! I always like praise- especially if it's for something fun, like my writing! Simple hobbies are always the best to get compliments on… And don't worry about getting off topic talking to me. I'm random enough that I'd probably think it was still on topic…

October Morning- I think my face just went the color of a ripe cherry tomato! I know about the alerts, really sorry- this website always does that to the alerts that are supposed to be sent out for my stories whenever they change something. It always takes them days to get it back to normal too… I can not tell you in words how ecstatic I am to know you like my story so much! Definitely flattered here! So sorry about the long wait…

Shauna- No- sorry to say it, but you didn't get the first review. The website was being incredibly stupid and didn't send out alerts until days after the chapter was updated. (Sorry about the long wait, by the by!). Everyone's dying to hear them say those three little words to each other- hell, even I am! It'll be worth the wait, I hope! (And of course Eragon had to leave before Murtagh could say anything- it just wouldn't be as much fun if everything had gotten resolved! Mwahahaha!)

Gloria Monday- It might end up being '08 before I finish… I'll try to get it done before then, but it all depends on how much time I have to write… (To think I started this during Winter Break, and now it's almost Spring Break…) So glad you enjoyed!

Krista-shadow- I noticed the alerts weren't working, so I tried to send everyone a message to let them know! I know I hate missing a chapter of my favorite stories, so I figured it was only polite!

Desert Thief- Aw, you make me blush! I'm just a simple sixteen-year old- not as great as all that! I try- so happy you like it!

CaramelBoost- Actually, you're the first! You get a prize- a thousand points, but the points don't matter, yes, they don't matter at all… (If you've ever seen Whose Line Is It Anyway that phrase is funnier…) So the story is gripping? That's always good! Hopefully the rest of the story will be just as good and the intensity will rise…

LadyBird- I'm happy to write it, you're happy to read it! A good combination, I must say. I thought it was the polite thing to do- if everyone allowed me some space on their lists of things to receive an alert for, then I thought it was only right they got their update alerts when they were supposed to!

OshayO- You've been sick? I hope you're feeling better- I know I hate to be sick! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

FangedWriter- Thanks! I'm so sorry you had to wait- the alerts don't like me, so they lag sometimes… I'm glad you thought it was worth the wait!

Thebrunetteditz- Hopefully this was worth waiting for!

Night Dragon9- Thank you very much! I'm so glad you share my point of view- gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered people are no different than any other, heterosexual person. I hate how people bash gays just because they like someone (gasp!) the same gender as them. It pisses me off, so I wrote this! Eragon and Murtagh will end up together in the end- I can't write romance where the two characters end up apart! I've tried, but I just love happy endings!

lorennasumeragi – Thanks! I know this wasn't a very quick update, but I'm glad you like it!

Mantineus- I know I delay in updating, and to me any review (except flames, I hate those) is a good review! I'm just happy to have several faithful reviewers- makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! (huggles) Thanks so much for the review and I'm so happy you're enjoying this!

Kaylen- Thanks so much! Glad you like it- and that you had enough time to read it! I may be doing something with the dungeon scene from Murtagh's POV, but probably only in flashbacks. I'm glad I managed to pull off the dungeon scene well- I worked hard on it!


	11. Inspection

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

**Note: **Just a quick apology to all my faithful readers- sorry for taking so long to update! Also please note that I have essentially split Chapter 6 into 3 separate chapters. (Not 6A, 6B, and 6C, but 6, 7, and 8). I did this because there were some things in the middle of Chapter 6 (or what would have been Chapter 6) that I decided would be far more effective and that much better storywise if I told those events from Eragon's POV. So all those lovely hints I've been giving you about slash in Chapter 6 has been moved to Chapter 8.

This is dedicated to my NEW beta- Shauna! Also dedicated in part to Lauren- again you know who you are girl!- for reading this and putting up with me at school. Dedicated also to my older sister Jenny, since I conned her into reading this.

And dedicated to each and every person out there in support of MurEra!

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**In Dreams VI, Part A**

The wall was cold.

It wasn't like leaning against ice, but the absence of heat against his bare back was slightly uncomfortable. It couldn't compare to his chains- they were what had to bother him most- but the dungeon cell was cold.

He shifted slightly, parts of his body going numb from having sat so long. A dull clinking sound met his ears, the noise loud in the stiff silence between him and his guard.

"Quit moving, you." the dark-haired guard commanded, irritably scowling at Murtagh. The red Rider just stared evenly back into almost hateful green eyes.

The tense silence settled over them again, leaving the pale prisoner free to think.

Not surprisingly, his thoughts turned to his brother.

'"You are not a brother to me."'

He could still hear Eragon's voice resonating in his mind. Murtagh knew it had to be days since that encounter- there may have been no windows down here, but he was given food and knew vaguely how much time passed in-between meals- but he could still feel his brother's presence in his cell.

It had shocked him when he had heard Eruka speaking to Eragon as the blue Rider had come down the steps. The shock had kept him from moving much until those brown eyes had settled on his body.

He hadn't really noticed at the time how Eragon's eyes had widened slightly, but looking back now he could recall how his brother had looked at his chest for several minutes before ever glancing up to meet his eyes. The attention had confused him, but it was strikingly clear now.

Their conversation had been slow in starting, and short in duration, but the few words exchanged kept playing over in the red Rider's head in an endless loop- as well as Eragon's inability to meet his eyes. The blue Rider wasn't as adept at hiding emotion as Murtagh was, and the way he had spoken had betrayed that.

'"It was just... The Varden could use more powerful allies, and..."'

Smirking slightly, Murtagh remembered the look that had crossed his brother's face when the red Rider had stood up. Murtagh hadn't seen it then, but Eragon's gaze had been fixed on the bared skin. Anger had been riding him then, and pain from his brother' seeming inability to accept him as family.

That anger had instantly transfigured itself into a curious mixture of shock and hope when Eragon had spoken again.

'"You are not a brother to me."'

The blue Rider had seemed so distant as he spoke the words, as if his mind was elsewhere. That voice- so full of hope, so full of longing and need- had stayed with Murtagh since the moment those words had sounded.

Chocolate brown eyes had widened in fear for just a moment before Eragon had turned and fled, his footsteps echoing down the short hallway. Each strike of the thick boots Eragon wore sounded almost like the words the blue Rider had uttered seconds before.

Murtagh relaxed further against the stone wall, the cold penetrating his body but hardly noticed. Thinking of that meeting reminded him of one small, nagging fact that had played in the back of his mind since his first day as the Varden's prisoner.

A memory that was just beyond his reach was hiding something important from him. Eruka, his scarred guard, had a vaguely familiar face. Murtagh knew he had seen the other man before waking up under lock and key, but he could not recall where from. It was important, but try as he might he could not recall anything about the other man.

Also, something about his mannerisms was familiar. A slight oddity in the way he spoke, or perhaps just the way he changed when other people were around. There was a relaxed ease about him that disappeared whenever there was another person besides Murtagh himself nearby.

They had spoken several times, mostly just tidbits of information from the daily routine of the Varden, but every so often Eruka would say something that made Murtagh question who exactly the guard was.

Where he had seen the man was crucial to that realization, but the pale man seemed to have a fog blocking that memory out.

He shifted again, wishing he could lie down to prevent parts of his body from going numb. The clink of his chains caused yet another irritable reaction from his guard.

"I told you to cut it out!" There was a loud ringing noise as the teenage guard hit the metal bars of the cell, the sound taking several minutes to fade in the echoing hall.

Hazel met green with a cold stare that did not dissipate as the noise did.

Murtagh studied the face of the one person who had seemed to be on a crusade to torment him since he had been captured. Krin- he had learned the boys' name from Eruka- was just a few scant years younger than he was, but the scarred guard hadn't told him much more than that.

Murtagh had been expecting a cold reception in the Varden, so while Krin's attitude had angered him he hadn't exactly been unprepared for it. What had surprised him was Krin's sudden cessation of almost all hostility. A short while ago- it could have been anywhere from four days to ten, as Murtagh had no sure way of telling time- Krin had stopped making him so miserable. He hadn't stopped completely, but the malevolence with which Krin treated had noticeably lessened.

And the way Krin looked at him changed as well. There was still that nearly overwhelming hate, but sometimes confusion would overpower that emotion, as well as a calculating, uncertain expression. The guards' confusion, in turn, confused Murtagh. If he had to guess, he'd say that Krin's sudden attitude change had something to do with his oddly absent brother. Eragon had not visited since that first meeting.

Of course, considering how that meeting had gone, maybe it wasn't so surprising.

It was the teenage guard who broke the stare first.

"Just stop making noise. It's damn annoying," Krin muttered, turning his gaze back down the corridor to where the hallway bent to meet the stairs.

In all the time Krin had guarded him, this had to be the most words they had exchanged. It may have been that fact, or simple curiosity, which compelled Murtagh to speak.

"What changed you?"

Krin stiffened.

"Didn't I just tell you to be quiet?" he asked rhetorically, his tone an obvious command for silence. The red Rider, however, persisted.

"When I first arrived, you would not have looked away from me just now. You would have taken that as a threat and used it as some sort of an excuse to punish me. Not that I'm not grateful for the reprieve, but what changed you from my tormenter to barely an annoyance?" Murtagh demanded.

"I hate you. That has not and will not change. I still want to see you pay for what you did, but that will have to wait-" Krin cut himself off, his green eyes suddenly furious. His tone was one of absolute loathing, but even that seemed lessened from what Murtagh remembered.

"What I did?" he inquired evenly. "Betrayed the Varden against my will? If I had any choice-"

Krin's bitter laugh interrupted him, the sound choked with anger.

"If that was it, I might have been able to forgive you."

Silence fell.

"What did I do?" Murtagh asked, his voice still carefully neutral. Curiosity- more than anything else- motivated him now. What exactly had he done to deserve such loathing from the green-eyed boy? No one else seemed to hate him quite so much.

"If I thought you should know, I'd tell you." Krin spat.

"If you're going to hate me for it, I want to know what I did." Murtagh replied.

Silence fell again. The red Rider was about to open his mouth to speak again when Krin finally answered.

"You killed them. I'm alone because of you."

A bit surprised- both by the answer and by the fact that the green-eyed guard had answered him- it took Murtagh a moment to form a reply.

"Who did I kill?" The pale man knew there was probably no point in denying it- whoever Krin was mourning must very well have fallen by his blade. Sudden and unexpected compassion for his guard filled him, as well as understanding for why Krin had been so cruel to him when he first arrived.

"My parents. They were my only family, and you killed them." Krin turned his head towards the wall, as if to make sure Murtagh couldn't see his expression. "If you hadn't been there, they never would have died."

The words hung in the air between them.

"I know it's no consolation, but I'm sorry," the red Rider replied. "I do know what it's like to lose those you care about-"

Memories played back in his mind, memories of a soft, caring hand laid upon his head when he was sick, and a warm embrace and lap to sit upon when he was young. Most of the memories of his mother were fuzzy at best, but he could still remember how safe he had felt while with the fragile woman.

Tornac, his best friend and mentor before he had fled Galbatorix- the friend that had died to help him escape. The horse he had named in honor of his fallen mentor, only to lose the powerful animal when captured by the Twins.

More recent memories began playing in his mind- Thorn's mighty roar, the proud dragon flying high above the clouds with his Rider on his back. Thorn, whom he hadn't seen since his capture and imprisonment by the Varden.

And last, but most important, the only person he had cared about after his mother, Selena, had died...

Brown eyes that haunted him so much in his dreams.

_"Murtagh."_

His trip down memory lane was cut short when his guard responded.

"That doesn't make it any better! So what if you were an orphan like me!? I know that!" Krin exploded, rounding on Murtagh. "I'm still alone!"

"I never even knew a family. You, at least, have your happy memories. I don't even have that," Murtagh replied, a hint of bitterness leaking into his voice.

"No I don't." Krin shook his head violently. "My last memory of their faces... I saw them after the battle. I can't think of them without remembering that." Krin shuddered, green eyes wide with horror. "I didn't know they were dead until I was right next to them." His voice cracked slightly, and Murtagh was sure Krin would have turned had he thought himself able to move.

The red Rider kept quiet, allowing Krin to vent his frustration, fear, and anger in a way the boy probably hadn't been able to do since the death of his parents.

"Mom's eyes were so... blank, just empty... She was gone, and there was just so much blood. Dad was right next to her, and he... he..." Krin choked, but continued, his hate coming through clearly in his tone. "He wasn't all there. Half of him was just gone, and... I couldn't even recognize him, his face-" Krin cut himself off. "I hate you. If it weren't for you they'd still be with me!"

Krin's voice was hoarse and rough, as though he was trying to hold back tears. His body was stiff with tension, almost shaking in anger and the pain of reliving such horrible memories.

"Then that's something else we have in common," Murtagh replied, voice soft and dull. He moved slightly, drawing himself closer to the wall. "We've both seen the faces of our dead parents, and that lives on in our memories more than anything else we remember of them."

He sensed, rather than saw, Krin look at him in confusion.

"My mother left Morzan to give birth to Eragon. She should never have returned, but I think she was worried about leaving me with that man," Murtagh told Krin quietly. "She had just entered my room to get me when he appeared in the doorway. I woke up when I heard her scream."

The memory began playing back in his head- one he did not like to revisit, but one that haunted him all too often in his nightmares. It didn't hurt him as much as it had years ago, but it was still painful.

"Morzan knew I was watching as he beat her to death. I can still hear her begging for him to spare me and for him to leave me alone in my nightmares. I can't remember any of the lullabies she ever sang to me, but I can recall how she screamed as he hit her."

Murtagh's voice had taken on a clinical, detached tone as the Rider tried not to let the memory get to him. In his eyes, you could see how much the memory haunted him.

"He left her in my room when he was done. I didn't know how close to death she was, so when she reached for me, I went to her. That was the last night I slept by my mother's side, and when I woke up she was cold." Murtagh swallowed, speaking thickly around the lump in his throat. "Morzan tossed her outside with the rest of the garbage to be carted away."

Again, there was only silence in the dungeon as the two men drowned in their own dark memories.

"I still hate you." Krin whispered weakly in the silence.

"I don't expect you to stop, but you were lucky to have any time with people that loved you. I have no one." Briefly, his mind flicked to Eragon. The more he thought about his brother's behavior, the more confused he became about how Eragon truly felt about him.

To hope the blue Rider cared about him the same way he felt for the other seemed like too much to hope for, but at the same time Eragon's last words kept haunting him.

"Just because I have more memories of them doesn't make me any luckier. I'm still alone now- it just makes me realize how different being alone is from having a family," Krin replied, voice bitter and cold.

"You have the people of the Varden, others who have lost just as much as you- and some may have lost more. You have something. I have nothing."

After several minutes pause, Krin spoke.

"You have Eragon." His voice was hesitant, as if unsure whether or not he wanted to speak. "He's your brother, so at least you have family."

"Family..." Murtagh murmured, mostly to himself. He sighed wistfully. "You're right- he is my brother. He's a blood relative."

He looked down at the ground, trying to ignore the sorrow filling his heart at the reminder of just how off-limits Eragon was. It would have been hopeless even if Eragon had only been his enemy, but with the blood-ties the two shared chances were one in millions that the blue Rider would ever feel more than platonic love for the red Rider, and that was being generous.

But there was still that final phrase Eragon had uttered before his flight from Murtagh's cell…

"This doesn't change anything." Krin snapped suddenly, though there was little venom in his tone. "I still hate you."

Murtagh was about to reply when the sound of several pairs of feet coming down the dungeon steps alerted both Rider and guard to the approach of visitors.

Krin moved several steps forward.

"Who's there?" he called, voice calm with only the barest hint of the emotions he had just moments ago been struggling with.

"Rider Eragon and the elves. We're here to speak to Murtagh about his vow to Galbatorix."

Krin lowered his spear.

"I've been told to expect you today. Come on then- I'll open his cell for you." The green-eyed guard reached for his keys as the sound of footsteps started up again. Murtagh leaned slightly to the side so he could see his brother as the other Rider rounded the corner, smiling inwardly as happiness welled within him.

How long had it been since he had seen the other?

Hazel eyes flicked to the rest of the party, noting the three male elves- one old, two young- and two females. One of the elves he recognized to be Arya, but he didn't know the others.

His eyes flicked back to his brother at the head of the party, Eragon's gaze meeting his for a moment before the blue Rider broke the eye contact.

"That won't be necessary. We can speak to him just fine through the bars." It was the unfamiliar female elf who spoke, tone not harsh but cautious and logical.

Out of the corner of his eye, Murtagh could see Krin nod and step back from the cell, moving past the group to allow their meeting to continue in private.

Murtagh tried to catch Eragon's eyes, but the blue Rider was very carefully not looking at the pale man. The red Rider scanned the rest of the group again, noticing how Arya was looking from Eragon to himself and back again, gaze focused as though she were working on the most complicated puzzle.

Eventually, the old elf cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"Murtagh, I presume?" he asked formally, despite the fact that Murtagh was the only prisoner in the dungeon. The red Rider nodded. "Our visit probably took you by surprise- we're here to see if we can't free you from servitude to Galbatorix. I am Oromis. This is Vanir-" Oromis indicated one of the younger males- the one with black hair. Vanir nodded curtly.

"This is Kyrin-" The other male was indicated with a wave of Oromis's hand. Kyrin nodded respectfully, long silver hair shimmering slightly in the torchlight. "-and Svara." The silver-haired female bowed her head slightly. "You are already acquainted with Arya and Eragon."

Murtagh nodded, though the statement hadn't been a question.

"We've all been informed on what happened as far as the Varden knows, but we'd like to ask you some questions about what you remember from after the Twins captured you." Kyrin stated.

"What do you need to know?" Murtagh asked.

"The exact wording of the vow you made to Galbatorix." Svara interjected before Kyrin could speak. The male elf shot her a slightly irritated look, but she ignored it. "If you please."

Murtagh nodded, casting his mind back to that day.

Flashback

He had just been moved into a large, rich room in the upper part of the castle- a tower.

The room was covered with varying shades of red, with gold decorations all over. Marble tile made up the floor, with blood red covers for his bed and a smaller red cushion for the dragon hatchling he had decided to name Thorn.

It had been a shock when the egg had hatched for him- Murtagh doubted anyone had expected it, least of all Galbatorix.

He stared down at his palm, shining silver smiling back at him. Hazel eyes flicked to the sleeping dragon hatchling.

"You need to grow big and strong soon Thorn. We need to get out of here," Murtagh murmured, gently running his fingers over smooth scales and the small ridge on the hatchling's back that would eventually develop into spikes along the ruby dragon's spine.

"We have to get back to the Varden."

"Oh you do, do you?" The voice that spoke was deep and cruel.

Murtagh froze, turning around slowly as his heart sank.

There stood Galbatorix in all his finery, crown of gold perched atop his bald head. His robes were black and blood red, representing his dragon and the spilled blood of all his enemies. Even though the king was old, he had not let his body fatten or lose any of the strength it had had when Galbatorix had been young.

As the mad king walked slowly towards him, Murtagh backed up. He had been inside the king's torture room enough times to know it was foolish to risk another visit.

"We'll see about that. And here I trusted you, the beloved son of my most devout follower. I even let you become a Dragon Rider to fight for me. Serving the King is an honor, and yet you'd throw it all away for rebels."

Murtagh had to bite his lip to prevent a sarcastic comment as the words 'beloved son' passed Galbatorix's thin lips.

"We'll just have to make sure you stay loyal to me, boy."

End Flashback

Murtagh frowned. He could remember Galbatorix calling to someone over his shoulder- someone who was waiting at the door to his room with a blood red mixture in a stone goblet- but the memory had broken up from that point on. All he could remember was blackness, and then waking up to realize he was under the King's control. There had been another presence in his mind from that day on- one besides his beloved dragon and himself.

He had been told the potion that had been forced down his throat was a memory potion, designed to prevent him from remembering the exact wording of the vow. It had burned all the way down his throat, almost like liquid fire as it spread through his body and intensified in heat until it felt like he would burst into flames.

'"But don't doubt my power over you. You are my puppet, and no more- you vowed to serve me, and I am your master."'

"I don't remember..." Murtagh replied slowly, frowning as he tried to fight the haze clouding his mind. Brief glimpses that may have been memories were the only things that his struggle yielded.

The slight impression of symbols being drawn on his body with paint, the sounds of chanting...

Thorn's shriek...

"All I can recall is some liquid the color of blood they made me drink, then I think there was some sort of ritual. I can't remember anything clearly."

"'They'?" Svara echoed. "Was there someone with Galbatorix?"

The pale Rider slowly nodded.

"There was another man, but I don't remember what he looked like."

"Are you sure you don't remember anything, or do you just not want to tell us?" Vanir asked coldly. Murtagh glared at him, about to retort when Svara beat him to the punch.

"Forget your hatred of Eragon for just a moment, Vanir, and look to see the facts. There are several potions that end up being the color Murtagh described, and any one of them could have affected his memory. But-" she turned to look keenly into Murtagh's eyes.

"You remember a ritual? Do you remember any of the words spoken, and do you remember speaking at all?"

The red Rider concentrated for a moment, but shook his head.

"There was some kind of chant that Galbatorix and the other man were repeating, and I vaguely recall them using some sort of paint to draw symbols on the floor and on my chest. When I woke up, all traces of the symbols were gone."

"Did you speak at all?" Oromis asked, repeating Svara's question.

"No. I don't think I was conscious for most of it."

"Do you have an idea of what ritual may have been performed on Murtagh?" Arya asked. Oromis nodded.

"It's a very old one... but Galbatorix would have known it... Svara."

The female elf nodded.

"What should I do?" she asked.

"I need you to check his magic to see how exactly he is tied to Galbatorix." Seeing Murtagh opening his mouth to protest, the old elf continued.

"Eragon has informed me of how resistant you are to getting your mind checked. Svara is simply looking at your magic- any secrets you keep in your mind will still be safe and untouched."

Slowly, the red Rider nodded and glanced over at Svara.

"Can you move closer to the bars? I need to be able to touch you for this to work." she asked him as soon as they made eye contact.

The red Rider shifted, shuffling as close as he could to the bars of his cell. He kept moving forward until the chain holding his arm pulled taut, allowing no more movement.

Svara knelt beside the cage, briefly closing her eyes as she concentrated on her magic. Her hands came up in front of her face, a light green glow beginning at the edges of her hands and coming inwards to meet at the center of her palms. The whole process took about half the time it had taken Trianna to encircle one of her hands with her magic.

Her eyes opened, looking at her hands critically for a mere moment before reaching through the bars to place her hands on either side of Murtagh's head.

He could feel the coolness of her magic against his skin even before she released her spell.

"Ethgri vanyali kopa," she intoned clearly. The magic suddenly washed over Murtagh, cool and impersonal. The green glow moved over his skin, and he could feel it move as though the magic itself was alive- it moved with the precision of a surgical tool in the hands of a master, sliding over his skin as though searching for something.

He felt the cool light slide over his chest, suddenly concentrating over his sternum. The mint green of the glow brightened, and Murtagh could feel it begin to move into his body.

Suddenly, the magic hit something like a wall just beneath his skin. Murtagh choked, the contact almost as harsh as a punch would have been to the same area. He screwed his eyes shut as the pain intensified, jerking himself back from the soft hands still on his face.

Instantly, the green ball of energy and magic stopped pressing down on his chest, bursting and dissipating into the air.

The pain slowly fading, Murtagh looked over to the other side of his cell.

Svara was looking at her palms, a grimace of pain on her face. Instantly, Kyrin knelt beside her and gently pulled her hands towards him, looking over her apparently injured hands.

"What happened?" Vanir asked, sincere confusion evident in his voice. He moved just behind Kyrin, looking over the other males' shoulder to see the damage.

Oromis moved forward as well, albeit more slowly that Vanir.

"Burns," Kyrin answered for Svara, covering her smaller hands with his own. "Waise heill," he murmured, a brown glow encircling his hands for a moment before sinking through and presumably into Svara's damaged flesh.

After a minute, Kyrin released her hands. Svara studied them again.

"What was that?" Arya asked. "What could have burned your hands?" She turned to Oromis. "Did you know this might happen?"

The old elf shook his head, bemused.

"This may have been an oversight on our part, but if Murtagh's magic was bound, that sealing spell may also keep other magic from going in. We'll need that spell removed, and from the damage Svara took I believe we need the original caster to remove the spell."

"One of the Varden's female magicians did cast a sealing spell on me. Her name was Trianna," Murtagh offered.

"Then we need to go find her." Svara sighed. "That will have to wait for tomorrow, I'm afraid. We'll be back here first thing after breakfast- in the meantime, see if you can't remember more about the ritual you may have undergone." She stood, followed quickly by Kyrin.

One by one, the elves turned and walked towards the stairs, Kyrin staying close to Svara as she was a bit unsteady on her feet. Vanir just seemed angry at the delay, while Arya was walking next to Oromis.

Eragon lingered behind for a moment, but just as Murtagh was about to speak Eragon turned and hurried to catch up to the elves.

It hadn't escaped Murtagh's notice that Eragon hadn't spoken once the entire meeting.

Murtagh barely registered Krin's return as he watched Eragon disappear around the corner to the stairs.

TBC…

Ancient Language Translation:

Ethgri vanyali kopa - This spell I had to make up, so I strung together words that basically had the effect I wanted. 'Ethgri' means 'invoke' and 'vanyali' means magic. 'Kopa' I got from 'draumr kopa'. 'Draumr kopa' means 'dream stare', and is used for scrying, so I took the 'stare' bit of that spell. Literally translated 'ethgri vanyali kopa' means 'invoke magic stare', but we can pretend it's a proper sentence…

Waise heill- Be healed.

A/N: So… sorry it took me so long? Hope this was decent- I have more slashy stuff coming up, don't you worry! This story's about halfway through…

So, we got an angsty conversation with Krin (he just seems to keep popping up, doesn't he?) and a trip down memory lane for both Krin and Murtagh!

Next week: Trianna visits the cell, and we get to find out exactly what is going on with Murtagh'' bond to Galbatorix. It should be fun!

Review Replies:

Shauna: Aw, you make me blush! The best thing to wake up to? A chapter by little old me? Stop it, you're killing me! I hope you enjoyed this, even though it took forever to get out to everyone… And yeah, most people never guess I'm only 16 if they just look at my writing. I guess I write decently then? (One of my friends says I write like an old person because of some of the language patterns I use.)

CaramelBoost- You're right- I looked back and checked- turns out the elf's name IS Vanir, not Varin. I have corrected that though- thanks for pointing that out! (takes cyber brownie) Hopefully I didn't keep you waiting too long for this one- whoops?

Ashyx- Patience is a virtue my dear! I hope your patience rewarded you- was this good enough and worth waiting for?

Gloria Monday- Under the Sea? From The Little Mermaid? I used to love that song- but now, I must admit, I listen to the Japanese version of that song when Sora sings it in Kingdom Hearts 2… (Kingdom Hearts is one of my favorite games- Sora's the main character, and I love his voice in the Japanese version of the game- ignore me and my fangirl ramblings!) And thanks- I was so worried about 5D…

Eryl- Aww, I'm evil? I so enjoy being evil. Come to the dark side- we have slash and cookies! I hope this chapter gave you a decent dose of Murtagh-ness…

Xsaraxmalfoyxpotterx- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Krista-shadow- Trust me- there is more interaction between Murtagh and Eragon. Something BIG happens in Chapter 7, and after that there is a lot more interaction between them…

Thebrunetteditz- Thanks! I want to be an author and all, once I grow up. Hearing that I'm good at writing now gives me a lot more confidence and gives me all these warm fuzzy feelings!

October Morning- As usual, an extremely long review- the best kind of review, in my opinion! I just love reading long reviews… As for the whole 'woman-in-a-man's-body' type gay man vs. the 'man-attracted-to-other-men' type of gay man, I totally agree. There are definitely two types- and Eragon just ISN'T a girl in a boy's body. To write him as such would be ruining his character… And that just gave me the mental image of Eragon wearing eye shadow, eyeliner, and lipstick while pulling on a dress. Ew…

I just see it as everyone experiencing love differently, and 'gay' does not necessarily mean 'girly'. Most of the gay men I know don't act like women in the bodies of men, or vice versa for the lesbians I know. As for the rest of your review- thanks! I know it would be a let-down because there wasn't much in the way of slash in 5D, but it had to be written. There wasn't a whole lot of slash in this chapter either, but we got some angst for Murtagh and Krin. Does that count for something?

Du.Sundavar.Brisingr- Was this soon enough? I know it took me a while.

Volian- Thanks! I hope you enjoyed this just as much!


	12. Truth

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Dedicated to Shauna for being my beta! Also dedicated to October Morning for the wonderfully long and kind review! (Has to be one of the longest I've gotten in my life!)

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**In Dreams VI, Part B**

As promised, the elves returned just after breakfast. Murtagh's tray of stale bread and water had just been cleared away when he heard the multiple pairs of feet come down the stairs. Since they had been told to expect a visit, his guard- Krin, as it usually was in the mornings- had simply handed the keys to Eragon as soon as the blue Rider rounded the corner.

Krin hadn't spoken so much as a word to the red Rider since their talk yesterday, but Murtagh really didn't expect the teenager to say anything. That conversation had left them both quite a bit to think about.

Krin had then left, probably to wait at the top of the stairs until called back down to perform his duty as guard. The red Rider scanned the crowd, noting sadly and a bit angrily that Eragon was- once again- ignoring him and refusing to look at him.

"I don't like this." Trianna- they had managed to find the magician, Murtagh was happy to note- complained, a sour look on her face.

"We have permission from Nasuada, and it's the only way to be certain of what magic holds Murtagh. If you'd kindly remove the spell, we can continue with our work." Arya replied, tone cold and with the slightest hint of exasperation creeping in.

Trianna sniffed, a scowl on her face.

"Fine."

Murtagh turned his gaze to his brother as he heard the key click in the lock. Eragon didn't look at him as he turned the key, opening the cell door for Trianna.

The Varden's head magician fell to her knees in an angry huff in front of Murtagh, bringing one hand up. She stared at her slender fingers for several minutes, a look of concentration on her face.

Eventually, a familiar pink glow began in the center of her palm and slowly spread outwards.

She brought her gaze up to meet his.

"This is against my better judgement." she muttered so only Murtagh could hear, then placed her hand over his chest the exact same way she had done after Murtagh had been captured.

Murtagh gritted his teeth as the icy feel of Trianna's magic penetrated his flesh, leaving that same icy burn as it had when she had erected the walls that bound his magic.

"Jierda malthinae." Trianna muttered unhappily. Her magic suddenly clamped down hard on the sealing spell she had put in place weeks ago, shoving through his body and shattering the spell.

Murtagh winced. It felt as though the magic was trying to shatter him too, as it crashed though his body carelessly and left fires fueled by ice everywhere Trianna's magic touched.

As the woman's magic freed his own, Murtagh could feel himself becoming stronger and stronger, his own fiery magic soothing the hurts left by the careless magician as it ran through his veins once more.

He closed his eyes and only let himself think of his own magic, his own power as he felt the last of Trianna's magic course through him, the harsh brush of her magic inside of his quickly soothed by a tidal wave of his own.

Finally, the woman stood, letting her hand fall back at her side.

"He's a dangerous traitor. Since he has his power back, he could very well kill us all- I hope you're happy." She strutted out of the cell, holding her head high as she exited the dungeon, offering one last phrase over her shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the task of protecting the people of the Varden, not rescuing a liar and traitor who should have been executed."

Murtagh ignored the biting words, instead staring down at his body. It was a feeling like no other to have his magic back after being separated from it for so long. He flexed his fingers, smiling to himself as he felt the magic crash within him.

He looked up when he realized someone was kneeling beside him.

His eyes met those of Svara, her hands already up and glowing the same mint green he knew from yesterday. Without being asked, he lowered his hands and leaned forward slightly, giving the elf permission to cast the spell that had been interrupted by Trianna's yesterday.

Carefully, she placed her palms on either side of his face.

"Ethgri vanyali kopa." she intoned. As soon as the words left her mouth, the cool magic once again traveled over his body, again concentrating over his sternum before pressing in.

The magic moved much more hesitantly than it had yesterday, moving just inside his skin slowly until it came to the point where the shield that repelled it the day before.

Cautiously, he could feel Svara's magic move forward just a little bit more, to where the shield would have been. Murtagh couldn't be certain, but he thought several people breathed a sigh of relief as Svara's magic pressed all the way in.

Murtagh could feel the foreign magic hover inside of his body, then suddenly the globe of mint green energy seemed to burst and the cool glow moved outwards from his chest.

It wasn't an invasion, like Trianna's magic had been. The red Rider could feel the gentle magic move along his own, merely covering and not containing his own power as Svara checked his magic.

It was an odd sensation as her magic completely covered his own- it wasn't as if his magic was kept from him, and Murtagh knew he could perform a spell should he find it necessary, but it was if something was coating his magic, delicate and thin.

Slowly, the red Rider felt the green magic withdraw, Svara's hands glowing briefly as she recalled some of her spent power. She removed her hands, slowly standing up with a puzzled expression on her face.

"What can you tell us, Svara?" Oromis asked.

"I don't think I've seen anything like this. It's strange, but... It seems more like some outside force has bound him to Galbatorix, as if some spell designed to mimic the giving of a vow had been placed upon him." She looked up, looking at her fellow elves at the blue Rider. "I do know this much- Murtagh never swore to anything in the ancient language, or else his own magic would be tied to the King. His magic belongs to him, but it's as if there are chains tying him to Galbatorix."

"Thank you, Svara. I believe I know the ritual performed." Oromis studied Murtagh for a moment, thinking. "It's very old magic- almost as old as the Ancient Language itself, and was indeed designed to imitate giving a vow. It's a powerful binding ritual, and to the untrained it would seem as if the affected had simply vowed loyalty, which is what made it so dangerous. It was impossible to tell your enemies from those forced into battle against you-"

"But Galbatorix has my true name." Murtagh interrupted, a slightly puzzled look in his hazel eyes as he thought. "Why use a ritual and erase my memory of it when he could simply command me to take a vow?"

The old elf chuckled just slightly, an almost invisible smile gracing his lips.

"That, I believe, is a lie. It is very likely Galbatorix does not know your true name, else he would have commanded you to take a vow and not used such a spell. Galbatorix has no way of discovering that name- only we elves know ours at birth, and it is extremely rare for any elf to divulge such information, be it our true name or that of someone else."

"Was a counter-ritual ever developed?" Kyrin asked, bringing the conversation back to the main topic. Oromis nodded, smile fading from his face as a look of concentration overtook his features.

"It was rarely used, since it could rarely be determined if those the rite was performed upon were acting of their own free will or not. Oftentimes those affected did not even recall the ritual and thought they had vowed loyalty because of what they had been told later. Rarely were any able to defy orders from the person they had been bound to."

"So we can free him?"

Murtagh looked over at his brother in surprise. It was the first time Eragon had spoken in front of him since their meeting days ago, and his heart rose a little as he heard the soft undercurrent of hope in the blue Rider's voice.

"It's possible to overcome any ritual." Arya replied softly. "We just need the correct counter and enough power to overcome the binding."

Oromis stayed quiet, looking pensively down at Murtagh.

"Is there something you're not telling us?" the red Rider asked quietly. Oromis sighed.

"Arya is correct- it is possible to overcome any ritual. That includes this particular rite. The problem is that this particular spell not only feeds off the energy of the caster, but the energy of the one placed under its effects. Once cast, the person affected can't control the amount of their magic the ritual absorbs. Not even to mention this ritual requires five magicians- we would need a fifth magic user willing to risk such a dangerous undertaking."

"So to free him, we need to overcome both his power and the power of Galbatorix?" Vanir asked, shocked. "The power of two Riders?!"

"Galbatorix has been building his power for centuries." Kyrin mutter quietly, a sorrowful looking crossing his features. "If it was just his power we needed to overcome, we might have been able to do it with all of us, but the power of a second Rider... especially when he can't even prevent his power from strengthening the binding spell…"

"We can't." Svara finished, looking down as she moved away from Murtagh. The red Rider sighed wistfully and looked down at the floor.

'So that's it, then.' he thought. He was almost surprised at how… much he had expected such a thing. It seemed like this outcome had been inevitable, and even as he mourned his own death, as well as that of Thorn, he couldn't say he was shocked to find out that nothing could be done.

Perversely, a small part of him was gratified to hear that he had not sworn a vow to Galbatorix. It was a small comfort, and while the fact that he had never vowed loyalty to the king didn't help him now it still gave him a small amount of satisfaction.

"So when's my execution?" he asked dully, feeling something in himself rebel at the very thought.

'Probably my pride and will to live.'

There was nothing but the nervous shifting of cloth to answer him.

Finally, someone spoke.

"This isn't over- it won't end like this! We have a chance, at least, don't we? We can find a way to overcome their magic, we just need to look for it. If we need to, can't we send for more magicians?" It was the blue Rider who spoke, tone heated as he looked from one elf to the next. Murtagh saw his shock mirrored on the faces of at least one of the elves in the room.

Eragon's almost complete silence yesterday and today, no one had expected such vehement words from him.

"Du Weldenvarden has already spread its magical resources thin sending us." Vanir replied snidely. "We are the most powerful among the Queen's magicians- asking for more would be just adding another drop of magic into a bucket to fight the tidal wave of power Galbatorix alone commands."

"We could take magic from the environment." Eragon argued.

"Too dangerous." Kyrin instantly replied. "A ritual is a complex thing, and even though I've not heard of this one before it's bound to be much more complex than most I have witnessed. No one could concentrate on siphoning magic from the environment while being careful enough not to kill any creature or plant and concentrate on performing the rite correctly. One person is not worth the lives of the millions of creatures and plants such a ritual would kill for their tiny amount of magic."

Eragon looked frustrated and defeated, face slowly melting from angry to hurt and depressed. The blue Rider tried to hide it, covering his face with an imperfect mask of neutrality.

"I see." he murmured slowly, looking away from the group and avoiding his brothers gaze.

"We could try power amplification..." Arya said slowly. All present looked at the elven princess in surprise. "If we altered the ritual slightly to allow for runes- I'm assuming it's a runic ritual, correct?" Oromis nodded slowly. "If we alter the rite and insert runes to boost our own magic, might we then overcome the binding spell?"

"It's possible." Oromis replied doubtfully. "But rituals are not things to play around with. We may end up amplifying the power of the binding spell, and not the counter ritual. Such tampering may end up killing us all in the effort."

"But it is possible?" Eragon asked. Oromis nodded.

"It's foolish to attempt."

"But Master, you and Svara are two of the most powerful and able spellcasters and spellweavers, correct?" Eragon asked. Slowly, both elves nodded.

"Oromis may not be able to cast, but between myself and him we might be able to make the necessary adjustments." Svara nodded. "I'm almost certain we could add in the power amplification- the only question remaining is if that will be enough."

Murtagh watched the group, feeling oddly detached. He had just been told he would be executed since the elves couldn't free him, but from what he was hearing now, perhaps there was a way...?

"We can try, can't we?" Eragon demanded.

Vanir laughed coldly.

"If we wanted to risk death. If our strength can't overcome the power of that ritual our magic runs out and we die. Rituals are absolute spells- it's all or nothing when you perform even the simplest rite." the haughty elf sneered. "Four elves and some mystery fifth magic user cannot overcome the power of two Riders- its simple fact. I don't care how many times we amplify our power, it's not possible."

"Four elves and one Rider." Eragon corrected. "I'll stake my life on our being able to remove that spell."

Arya objected.

"You are the Varden's only hope, Eragon! If we fail then the Varden still has you. If you die with us, then we may as well surrender."

"I may be the difference. If you four alone cannot overcome the spell, perhaps with my power we can. I can draw on Saphira for magic." Eragon argued, a determined set to his features.

"He's right." Svara nodded. "With a Rider helping us, it may just be possible. It's still risky, make no mistake, but if we succeed the Varden has two Riders and the chance of success in the long run is that much greater."

Oromis sighed, resigned.

"Since we're all so determined, then I suppose I had best do all I can to ensure the changes to the ritual won't end up having adverse effects. Svara and I will add the runes to the rite and I shall hope for a favorable outcome." Oromis turned and began walking towards the stairs. "We had best make haste- the sooner we make the needed changes, the sooner we can attempt this folly."

Vanir scowled and followed Oromis towards the stairs. Svara walked out of the cell, closing it behind her for Eragon to lock. The silver-haired female smiled reassuringly at Murtagh as she left, Kyrin right beside her.

The red Rider looked at his brother, opening his mouth to speak as Eragon once again locked the cell.

A million things to say ran through his mind, most being questions about his brother's final words to him at their private meeting. Hazel eyes flicked to Arya, who was watching them both carefully.

The matter was not something that could be discussed in front of others.

As chocolate eyes met his own for the first time in days, Murtagh said the first thing that came to mind

"Aren't you going to reseal my magic?"

Eragon shook his head, one hands gripping the key ring so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"I figure we can trust you not to cast, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Eragon placed the keys on Krin's small chair and turned to leave, Arya right beside him.

Murtagh watched them go, noticing the badly disguised tension of Eragon's body. He could hear Arya speaking quietly, but couldn't make out the words.

He relaxed against the cold wall of the dungeon, chains clinking lightly together.

It was confusing, his situation with Eragon. Sometimes he was so certain his feelings were returned he just wanted to pull his brother close and hold him. Other times it seemed as if Eragon barely tolerated Murtagh and saw him as the enemy.

Sighing, he saw Krin approach, come back to act as his guard once more.

Krin just nodded at him, reaching and picking up the keys to put them back in his pocket before looking away from his charge and down the hall.

In the silence, Murtagh reflected on his brother, as always.

Even with all the days he had been imprisoned, he was still no closer to figuring out the puzzle that was the blue Rider.

'One day soon,' he promised himself. 'I'm going to talk to him and find out where his heart truly lies.'

TBC…

Ancient Language Translation:

Jierda malthinae- 'jierda' is to 'break', and 'malthinae' means 'confine/bind'. Put together, 'break bindings'. We can pretend that's a proper sentence as well…

Ethgri vanyali kopa - This spell I had to make up, so I strung together words that basically had the effect I wanted. 'Ethgri' means 'invoke' and 'vanyali' means magic. 'Kopa' I got from 'draumr kopa'. 'Draumr kopa' means 'dream stare', and is used for scrying, so I took the 'stare' bit of that spell. Literally translated 'ethgri vanyali kopa' means 'invoke magic stare', but we can pretend it's a proper sentence…

A/N: Okay, so that's the end of Chapter 6! On to Chapter 7- Eragon's POV!

And is it JUST me, or does Eragon seem to get a lot more screen time than Murtagh…?

Next week: A bit of background information on Surda given by Arya, a quick conversation with Saphira… Seems like Eragon's life hasn't gotten any easier!

And yes, I know we're all impatient to get to the slash, but trust me it's coming! ExM interaction is well on its way, and looming just over the horizon in Chapter 8.

Review Replies!

Shauna- Yes, you're the first reviewer for this chapter! Don't worry- I'm writing as quickly as I can! Talk to you later, girlie!

Thebrunetteditz- Thank you! Are you satisfied with the whole 'Galbatorix-using-and-ancient-ritual-to-enslave-Murtagh' thing? I hope so- and I hope that you liked this chapter as much as the last one!

Evai- Aw, flatterer! I'm honored- seriously! It always brings a smile to my face to know that someone likes one of my stories!

Tamsin the Almighty – I've always thought that the middle of the night was the best time to write! I usually don't write much during the day and just write on my computer when I'm supposed to be asleep… I don't know what it is about nighttime, but I always write best when the moon is high in the sky!

Anonymous- More ExM interactions are coming up- never fear! Slash will soon be here!

krista-shadow – I'm going as quickly as I can! I'm almost done with the writing part of Chapter 7, and soon I'll be writing Chapter 8!

RandyFan- Thanks! I hope this was soon enough- and I'll be updating again soon!

Ashyx- Was this soon enough? I feel sorry for Murtagh too, but I just can't get enough of Murtagh-angst….

Xokobio- There are definitely too few fics about this pairing! I've read as many of them as I can find! And if you want to do some drawings for this story be my guest! I don't mind other people doing things like that- it just makes me feel special! (I have a friend who said she'll make icons for this story.)

CaramelBoost- Yay! (huggles like mad) I'm so happy you liked it so much! You know I try! So the emotion was good? A lot of people say I do that well, and emotion is one thing you really need to be able to pull off in order to write well, I think. Hopefully we won't have any more long waits in-between chapters… I have no more long vacations until summer!

Sybelle Annya – Worship? Really? I'm honored! 'Power of suggestion'… hm, that never actually occurred to me! We were never actually told what Murtagh said, so I invented a few things and decided to make it some sort of ritual old Galby performed on poor Murtagh! It's still magic, but poor 'Tagh had no choice… Hopefully that wasn't too cliché!

Shadow of Darkness 22 – Thanks! Hopefully this was soon enough! I was surprised to get a second review on this from you so soon as well! (First you reviewed 11, and then 4. I wasn't expecting two in the same week, but I was happily surprised!) I'm sure the people that flamed me weren't merely thinking 'strange'. (I'm pretty sure the word was somewhere in their thoughts, but 'strange' was likely the most kind!) Most people seem to find themselves writing long reviews, but I do love long reviews! The longer, the better in my opinion! I love reading what others write in reviews, even if it is just rambling. It's rambling with a purpose, so I love it! I'm addicted to this pairing as well- I obsess over it! I'm so glad you liked my other ExM stories! I'll do my best to stay awesome!

EmpyrealFantasy – 'In Dreams' is the best ExM chaptered story? Aw, that just gives me warm fuzzy feelings! I think there is another ExM chaptered story on this fine website, called 'Blood Brothers' by lurkindarkness with 20-some chapters. It's completed now, but there is a sequel on the way. (I haven't read it myself- I did start it, but never quite read it all the way through.) Thanks for the compliments, by the way! I always try to be the best I can for the readers, and when there's emotion and challenges I think it just makes the story that much more enjoyable.

CrimsonIntoxication- Aw- I love you too! I always have fun with the first flamer I get on any story- the satire I do with their flames is fun for the readers to read, and after that any flame I get is just amusing to me!

October Morning- First of all- did you see the little dedication I had at the beginning of the chapter? I just saw the SIZE of your review and had to stare! Long reviews always make me feel like I accomplished something- I was so flattered! Makes me feel so loved! Thanks for the compliment on how I write Murtagh- he is by FAR my favorite character, so I always try to do my very best with 'Tagh, almost to the point of obsession…

But anyway, it really made me happy to hear you'd want to read a book I wrote, when I do someday write one. I have some ideas bouncing around in my head (all started by a picture that popped into my head during 4/5 period Human Geography AP…) and I just wanted to do a happy dance when you called my writing fantastic! And please, feel free to babble as much as your heart desires- I don't mind it! It's just amazing to me that you WANT to write a long review after reading a chapter of mine…

So you like Krin? A lot of people have told me he was cool- and I agree, he does seem to be developing through the story. (Figures- you give a teenager an inch in the story, he'll take a mile…). I've never lost anyone either- I'm lucky enough to have both of my parents, and both sets of grandparents still with me, as well as all my siblings. I'm glad I was able to portray him accurately though! I'm good at seeing emotions and being able to turn them into words, I guess! I'm glad you liked the snippets of the ritual and the bit about baby Thorn! He was just SO cute I couldn't resist- who DOESN'T want to read about a cute little baby dragon? I hope you have as much fun reading this as I do writing it- I always have a blast, especially since I go back and reread my favorite scenes! (And long reviews are never bad- I absolutely love long reviews!)

Starsage- I hope the story is 'weird' in a good way! I'm assuming it is, since it's 'cool' too! Thanks so much for reading this!

Child of the Sky – Thanks! I agree- it IS the best incest pairing ever… and the only one I've written. I have no clue WHAT people could have against it… And on another note, I see you also liked my Pirates of the Caribbean oneshots! I know 'Moonlit Confessions' was a bit OC, but it was really late (I think I was out in the moonlight a bit too long…)

Geek Squared 1307- Thanks! So glad you enjoyed- and description is pretty difficult for me too. Sometimes, when I forget to describe something and have to go back and add it in, it disrupts the flow of a chapter and I have to rewrite the surrounding text! I'm getting used to adding in descriptions though- practice makes perfect!

BUTTEREDROSIE- No problem! I figure the story is more interesting to read if the relationship isn't hurried- once it comes along naturally, it's so much sweeter! Rushing them into it just wouldn't fit right! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I'm so glad you liked it!

FangedWriter – Thanks! I'm so happy it was good- it didn't have a whole lot going on, Chapter 5D, but it was unavoidable if I wanted this story to maintain any coherency… Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it!


	13. Different

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Dedicated to my awesome new beta, Shauna!

Note: Yeah, I know I posted this early. I'm in a good mood- it's my dad's birthday and I have late arrival! I get to sleep in- yay!

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**In Dreams VII, Part A**

Eragon slowly shut the door to his room, leaning back against it with a heavy sigh.

His whole body was shaking, a mixture of nerves and emotion churning his stomach.

It had just made him so angry and even afraid when it had seemed as if even the elves couldn't help. He had been so certain that everything would just be fixed as soon as they received the help of the magicians, even though he knew it couldn't be that easy.

The ecstatic hope that had risen within him at the mention of a counter spell had been almost completely dashed as Oromis had revealed just how difficult it would be to remove the magic placed upon his brother.

He swallowed thickly.

There was still no guarantee that they could free Murtagh. Even if they performed the ritual properly, it all came down to how much power they had. If Galbatorix's power combined with Murtagh's own magic was still stronger than Du Weldenvarden's four strongest magicians and the Varden's only Rider...

Shakily, Eragon pushed himself away from his door and stumbled towards his bed so he could collapse somewhere comfortable.

It was becoming much too difficult to even look at his brother. Just the thought of how Murtagh may have interpreted those damning words he had spoken so may days ago made him jumpy and panicky.

Eragon let himself fall onto his bed, rolling over to lay on his back.

It wasn't just Murtagh that had him worried. He was certain Arya suspected something as well- possibly even Nasuada. It was frustrating and worrisome how often those two women seemed to stare beyond him, seeing down to his very core and easily reading all the secrets he kept there.

He sat up, bringing his hands to his boots to untie the knots that held the sturdy leather shoes to his feet. He kicked them off, not bothering to look where they landed as he lay back down.

He rolled to his side, looking at one of the walls of his room.

It was only morning, but he didn't feel like moving and getting up to face the day.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He sat up again, holding back a sigh and carefully rearranging his face into a blank mask.

"Come in." he called, not bothering to get up. It was probably just a messenger anyway.

When the door opened to reveal Arya, Eragon was more than a bit surprised. He quickly shoved himself out of bed.

"I'm sorry, Arya svit-kona. I didn't expect you." he greeted as he stood, smiling a bit sheepishly and forcing thoughts of his brother from his mind. "Was there something else you needed to talk to me about?"

Arya had spoken to him as they had left the dungeons, mostly about the upcoming ritual and whether or not he was sure he wanted to take part in the dangerous rite. They had parted ways at the top of the stairs, and Eragon had honestly not expected to see the regal elf until the next day.

"I didn't think you would be expecting me. It's quite all right." she replied politely, shutting the door quietly behind her. "There was something else I needed to discuss with you, but I thought it best not to speak of this where others could hear."

Suddenly nervous, Eragon fought to keep his smile on his face.

"What else did you need to discuss?" he asked, looking around the room for some furniture item the elf could use as a chair. Finding none, he sighed and sat down on the bed, scooting over to allow Arya room to sit.

She took the offered seat gracefully, turning slightly to Eragon and meeting his eyes.

"It's about Murtagh. May I ask why you're so determined to remove the spell binding him to Galbatorix?"

"He's my brother." Eragon answered automatically, eyes dropping to examine his bedspread. He had never quite noticed the cover before, but it was such a beautiful shade of blue. An extremely dark blue, a close match for the scales of his dragon. The color of the sheets for his bed was far more interesting than the conversation currently being held- of course it was.

"Eragon, look at me." Arya requested softly. Hesitantly, Eragon brought his head up to meet her eyes once more.

"He's my brother. That's all- the only family I have left." he repeated, perhaps a bit too quickly. Arya studied him for a minute, her gaze seeming to go right through him.

Eragon swallowed nervously.

"You still have Roran." she pointed out. "And Murtagh was only revealed to be your brother not too long ago, and has since tried to kill you. Surely such a family member can't be worth risking your life for?"

Eragon broke the eye contact again, shoving himself from his seated position and walking over to his wardrobe for the sole purpose of getting away from Arya.

"It's just... Murtagh's different. Roran's my cousin. Murtagh's my brother." he explained again, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up as he felt Arya's keen stare follow him. He ran his fingers along the rough wood of the wardrobe, pretending there were no deeper reasons as to why he fought so hard for the red Rider.

"Yes- Murtagh is different, isn't he?"

Eragon turned back to face Arya, not liking the tone the elf princess used. It sounded like she knew a bit more than she should, and all of a sudden the room seemed far too small for both of them.

Arya met the blue Rider's gaze calmly and evenly.

Unnerved by her calm stare, Eragon's gaze dropped again.

There was an awkward pause in their conversation, until an abrupt change in topics jumpstarted their talk.

"I hear from Nasuada that you've been outside the castle. Did you enjoy your exploration of Aberon?" Arya asked politely. Her tone seemed to carry a hidden message, but the brunette ignored it.

"Yes I did. I visited the marketplace- I haven't seen anything like it before. There were so many... people..." The Rider's voice trailed off, recalling what else he had seen in that very same marketplace. "If you like, I could show you sometime before you leave." he added, gritting his teeth at the very idea. He had no desire to go back to such a place, but it seemed only polite to offer.

"I thank you for the offer, but this is hardly my first visit to Aberon. I am well acquainted with this place, and the customs and laws of Surda." Arya replied, her voice again carrying some deeper message the Rider pointedly ignored.

"I'm sure such study is very interesting." he told her, forcing his voice to be neutral. He really didn't like where their conversation was going- it felt too much like he was an animal being hunted, one that had just been cornered.

Arya stood as well, walking slowly towards Eragon. The brunette quickly moved his eyes from the floor before him to the side so he didn't even catch a glimpse of Arya's shoes as she moved.

"Surda is very different from Alagaesia, isn't it?" Arya asked rhetorically. "Fascinating culture, and their art is simply marvelous." Arya stopped right next to Eragon, looking casually at the wardrobe behind him.

"This is a fine example of Surdian artwork. The artisans here are very fond of using fine metals like this-" She traced her finger over one scale of the carved dragon. "- to create such beautiful pieces of work. The dwarves are also very fond of using precious metals, but they rarely use it so delicately." Arya glanced towards Eragon then, a slight smile on her face.

"I'm sure you've seen other works similar to this in other places of the castle? King Orrin is very fond of art."

"I've noticed." Eragon replied, still note looking at the elf princess "Almost every corridor in the castle in lined by fine art. It's a wonder how he can afford such things."

Arya laughed lightly.

"Most of these pieces are passed down from generation to generation. Many were donations in thanks of a decree passed centuries ago that never quite gained popularity in Alagaesia. Some say that that single decree is the reason why Galbatorix despises Surda so much, even though he says it's because Surda it attempting to dethrone him." She sighed sadly, her hand dropping back to her side. "It's truly a pity Alagaesia never passed the laws like we did. Even the dwarves are considering it, though legislation on such things has been pushed back with the war."

"What decree?" Eragon asked before he could stop himself. Curious as he was, he didn't think he wanted to know.

Arya's smile widened.

"The decree to recognize love as being love, despite the two people sharing it. It was Orrin's great-great-grandfather that first legalized marriage between any two consenting adults. In thanks, several couples sent their king pieces of their finest art on their wedding day."

Arya glanced back at the wardrobe, either not having seen or ignoring the bone-white color Eragon had suddenly turned.

"This was one such piece. I believe it was the artists husband who came up with the idea." The elf turned back to the Rider, concern crossing her face as she noticed how stiff Eragon was.

The brunette was looking down at the floor of his room, so tense he was shaking. His eyes were wide, and his expression an almost unreadable mix of shock, fear, and defensive anger.

"Eragon?" Arya called softly. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but Eragon recoiled.

"I'm sorry- I'm really tired. Might we continue this conversation sometime later?" he asked, tone cold and stiff. It was painfully obvious that this particular conversation would not be continued if he had any say in the matter. Arya ignored the warning tone in his voice and pressed on.

"We fear only that which we don't know, Eragon. Oftentimes that fear turns to hate. Some say that is the true reason Galbatorix wants to destroy Surda, but no one knows for certain except for Galbatorix himself." Arya moved away from Eragon. "I pity anyone that fears love over all else. I shall see you tomorrow."

With that, the elf turned and left. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Eragon backed away from his wardrobe until his back hit the wall. He slid down the wall, eyes fixed on the carving of the wooden dragon.

He felt suddenly sick.

'Arya knows.'

There was no doubt in his mind. The conversation he and Arya had just held left no room for doubts- it didn't matter if Arya hadn't come out and said it, she knew.

'"I pity anyone that fears love over all else..."'

Her voice rang in his mind.

"I'm not afraid." he whispered to the empty room. "It's not natural. I'm not afraid, it's just wrong. I shouldn't... I can't..."

Shaking again, he pushed himself to his feet.

'I have to get out of here.'

He moved over to his boots, shoving his feet in without bothering to tie the laces. Uncomfortably aware of the dragon wardrobe just behind him, he grabbed his cloak and fled his room, the one place he had believed to be a sanctuary for him now the last place he wanted to be.

Fumbling as he tied his cloak, he moved quickly passed the others in the hallway, keeping his head down as if his horrifying secret was tattooed upon his forehead for all to see. He was feeling far too exposed surrounded by people- he had to get away, and he knew of only one way to do that.

He exited the castle, turning and heading quickly to where Saphira and Thorn were kept. He didn't bother telling anyone where he was going- he would be back soon enough, and he wasn't sure if he would even be able to speak if he tried.

The dragons had been given a rather large, circular building behind the castle for housing. The floor was covered in straw for bedding, and the room was large enough for both dragons to fit inside of it comfortably, and the ceiling high enough for either beast to stand up comfortably in. Inside of the structure, there were no walls or barriers of any kind to allow free movement.

On the back wall of the building there were a few pegs, the brunette knew, one of them occupied by Saphira's saddle. He wasn't certain if it had been fixed yet, but that was where it had been kept when he had first stayed at Aberon. One of the other pegs would probably be occupied by now as well, but Eragon chose not to dwell on the reasons the enclosure held two dragons now, and two saddles.

As soon as he entered the large building housing the two dragons, Saphira looked up. He could sense, rather than see his dragon's movement.

(Eragon?) Saphira asked, quickly noticing that something was seriously troubling her Rider. (Eragon, what's wrong?)

"I just need... I just need to get away for a few hours." he replied dully, stumbling over to where he kept his saddle.

Absently, he noticed it had been repaired since his battle with-

He cut off that train of thought, just making a mental note to thank Nasuada later, as it had doubtless been by her order his saddle had been fixed.

He turned to Saphira. The sapphire dragon was still very concerned for her Rider, but she respected his wishes and didn't ask any more questions as the very distracted brunette slid the saddle over her back and quickly fastened it securely. He climbed on without another word, strapping his legs down and slightly nudging his dragon to inform her he was ready.

Saphira looked at him with worry in her eyes for one more moment before she turned to Thorn and lightly tapped the ruby dragons head with her own, a soft and almost affectionate gesture that Thorn returned.

Eragon looked away, gaze not moving from the ground as Saphira moved to the entrance of the large building and beyond, spreading her wings to take off.

Finally, as the blue dragon and Rider lifted into the clear sky, he looked up and allowed the wind to carry away his worries, if only for a little while.

Insert Line

Eragon and Saphira flew freely in the sky, just silence between them. It was as if they were the only two creatures in existence.

"It's so peaceful up here." Eragon commented softly, leaning against his dragon's neck.

(It is very calm, Eragon, but your heart is not.) she replied. (You've been keeping your thoughts from me for weeks, and I'm worried about you. Today you're keeping more of yourself from me than ever before, and you're afraid of something. Please, won't you tell me what it is?)

Eragon stiffened.

"I've just had a lot on my mind. It's nothing, Saphira."

(Then why does 'nothing' have you so upset?)

"I'm not upset!" Eragon snapped, then sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just... it's not something I want to talk about."

(Will you tell me eventually?) Saphira inquired, her voice in his mind soft. Eragon nodded against her scales.

"Just not now. I just need to forget about it for now."

(Running from problems rarely solves them.) Saphira offered. Eragon didn't reply, staring out at the empty stretch of sky before them and trying not to let his mind wander back to the ground, back to Surda...

Back to the dungeons...

He closed his eyes, the soft sounds of Saphira's wings lulling him to sleep on his dragon's back.

Insert Line

Brown eyes opened again, blinking twice in the dim light.

"Saphira?" he asked groggily, sitting up. "Did I fall asleep?" He looked to the side- they were still a good distance above the ground, but from the land they were flying over it was obvious they had returned to Aberon. Eragon could make out Orrin's castle below them as Saphira began to descend.

(Yes you did- you were asleep for a few hours. I kept flying around, but I can't carry you forever. It's a good thing you awoke, else I may have been forced to rouse one of the soldiers to wake you.) she replied, tone scolding slightly and just a bit cranky.

"Sorry." he mumbled, suddenly guilty. Saphira had flown him around all day, and he couldn't even give her an explanation as to why he had needed the escape of the air.

(I forgive you, little one. Make sure you're getting enough rest.) she cautioned, lightly touching down on the ground outside of the housing structure for her and Thorn.

Slowly, hands numb from the cold of high altitudes, Eragon fumbled with the ties holding his legs down. After several minutes of messing with the knots, they finally came free and he slid off of Saphira, stumbling slightly as his feet met the ground for the first time in hours.

Saphira gently nudged him, the gesture affectionate but also moving him slightly forwards. Taking the hint, Eragon led the sapphire dragon back inside the building, removing her saddle so she would be able to relax.

Again, she nudged him affectionately, her eyes staring into his.

(You know I worry about you.)

(I do.) he replied. (And I thank you for the concern, but really, I'm fine.) He smiled reassuringly at his dragon, then turned to face the other dragon in the room.

Thorn was looking at them curiously, one of the male dragons red eyes fixed on the Rider.

"I'm sure you'd like to know- since I doubt anyone's told you..." Eragon began hesitantly. "-But we might have found a way to free Murtagh. If everything goes well, you can see him after we perform the ritual."

'If it even works.'

(I'll need your strength, Saphira, for the spell.) he added mentally to his own dragon, deciding not to dwell on the unhappy probability of failure.

Thorn stared at him with what could be called a surprised expression. Eragon could feel some of that same confusion radiating from Saphira.

(My strength is yours, Eragon.) she replied, and despite her confusion and curiosity didn't press for more information.

Eragon could feel Thorn's calculating stare leveled at him.

He looked down.

"I'll be going then." He turned, giving Saphira one last absent pat on her snout before walking out the large doors of the building.

TBC…

A/N: Well, that's it for Part A of Chapter 7- hope it wasn't too awful! See you all next week! (Hope this isn't getting worse as the story progresses, and I hope I'm keeping them all IC… I'm trying, at least! Do I get points for trying?)

Next week: A quick meeting with Nasuada, and then Eragon angsts! Again…

Review Replies!

Kochelle-chan – Thanks! I'm glad In Dreams is that good! I always try to make it seem as if my little alternate storyline could actually HAPPEN, so it's always good to hear I'm doing good!

ace03cute – Thanks! I'll update as much as I can- and Eragon and Murtagh interactions are just around the corner! (Though the story itself is only about halfway through…)

Shadow of Darkness 22 – Getting into the habit of writing long reviews is a good thing! I never quite got into the habit of writing any reviews (I read too fast to review something, especially because most of the time I just read a bit before school…) I was the exact same way when I was younger! I love reading- most people are shocked by how fast I read. (Recently, I was obsessing over this one book and its sequel- 'Twilight' and 'New Moon' by Stephenie Meyer. Took me a few hours per book- had it been a weekend, I could have finished both in a day… It took me two, but I only really read during school, and maybe an hour or two afterwards. Most of my other time is devoted to homework and fanfiction!) I'll keep up my awesomeness as much as I can!

Ashyx – Thanks! But that's interesting- so long as it isn't 4 months waiting time in between, I can update as slowly as I want and you won't be mad? Hm… Just joking! I usually update once a week, since I never like being kept waiting for the next chapter of my favorite stories!

Peachie Bunni – Thanks! I'm so glad you like the story! I agree with you totally- yaoi rocks! I'm also glad you laughed at 'bunny boy'- I couldn't resist putting that it, and I think it gave that chapter just a hint of humor! Use whatever words you want to describe Eragon- all work!

Riku Love. – Thanks! I'm so happy you like this! I wish the actual books were like this too, but… Ah well, what can you expect? It's a boy who wrote the original series and he's had Eragon chasing Arya for the past 2 books, so it'd never happen. At least we can play with Eragon and Murtagh in fanfiction!

Brandi N. Jones – Computer problems are the worst, but I'm so happy you reviewed! I'm so happy you like it- well, 'happy' seems too weak a word, but it works! I agree with you on the movie- not my favorite, because the book was so much better, but I'd watch it all over again to see Garrett Hedlund as Murtagh! Murtagh had always been my favorite character, but seeing him in the movie really cemented his place in my heart! I'm glad you think the characters are In Character- it can get really annoying, reading stories where they're barely recognizable… Again, thanks for all the praise! I always try my hardest, and since I want to be an author when I'm older it's important to start getting good at things like plot and details early on! I'm also ecstatic that In Dreams isn't too overdone and it isn't just one big cliché- I try to make it at least semi-original! Lots of people were wary about the pairing at first too- I don't know if incest is something that everyone can write well, or read and enjoy it. I usually don't like incest pairings myself- only in very rare cases do I like it, and EragonxMurtagh just happens to be one of those cases! Combined with the serious lack of slash in this fandom, I couldn't resist writing something for those two! I'll do my best to keep up the quality of this story!

krista-shadow – Everyone's impatient- even me! I really want to write the slash part, but some things you just can't skip… I suppose I have an advantage over everyone else reading this, though- I know exactly what happens! Don't worry- slash comes soon!

Alsdssg- One of the best fics you've ever read for Eragon? I'm honored! I always try to do my best, so it means a lot to me when someone says something like that! Caffeine is always a good thing- and hyperness can be so much fun! I just finished my Spring Break- back to school… (sighs) School eats into my writing time like nothing else… And don't apologize for rambling! I do it often enough to understand when someone else does it…

FangedWriter – Thanks! I always enjoy putting at least SOMETHING from Murtagh's POV- he's just so much fun to play with! Since he's already accepted the fact he's gay, I can't play with him as much… But oh well! He's still fun to play with when I can! Congrats on getting all caught up! I can't wait for the ritual either- and neither can my beta…

Vampslayerwannabe- Hello newbie! (Sorry- just had to say that!) I'm glad you're enjoying this thus far- don't worry, there's tons of slash ahead! I can't keep Eragon and Murtagh separate for much longer- Chapter 8 and up will definitely see much more ExM interaction!

Xokobio- Thanks! I'm so glad you like my stories! I always try to do my best! I hope you got my e-mail as well- your drawing (once you do it) will be awesome, I'm sure!

She-Who-Forgot – Thanks! I try- and apparently I succeed. I know it's really annoying to find fanfics that have all your favorite characters out of character, so I always try to keep them as close to their original personalities as possible. Any relationship without any struggle isn't very fun- it would all be far too easy to just let them fall in love, so you have to create problems, and what better problem then having them have conflicting views on the issue? I just enjoy torturing the characters. I hope this update was soon enough for you!

Shauna – Thanks! Yeah, you've told me that billions of times, but it's always nice to hear! I do think you're overdoing the praise- surely this can't be that good! It's just a project of a teenager, undertaken in her spare time… But thanks! (squishes) I'll update soon- I'm sure you'll make me!

EmpyrealFantasy – I read it too, after I mentioned it in the reply to you. I must say- and again, no offense to lurkindarkness- that it could have been done better. Half the time I couldn't tell what was going on, but it was still pretty decent overall! (Personally, I don't think I would have done the 'gimme words and I shall randomly add them into the story' bit, but it was their fanfiction.). I'm glad you think In Dreams is the best Eragon fic- I try, but I've never been the 'best' at anything, so whenever someone says that I get all bashful and hyper and happy! Thanks! I'll update as soon as I can!

Sirana – Thanks! I didn't figure there would be any way to get Murtagh 'un-vowed' from Galbatorix if he swore loyalty in the ancient language, so I decided to invent a new brand of magic in the series! And that's true- Vanir and Eragon did come to a truce, of sorts, but I haven't been sticking super-close to the books on some things. Besides, we mostly read about Vanir and Eragon's animosity towards each other, not so much how they acted after their truce. In my head, Vanir is still not too happy with Eragon, so that's how I write him.

InsaneBlackHeart – No problem! Don't apologize for not reviewing- thanks for reviewing now! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Geek Squared 1307 – Yay! I hope this was good! I'm glad you like this so far- I'm dong my best! I agree with you- it's best to have an author that actually cares about what s/he writes. When you're reading a story written by someone who couldn't care less, it shows! Thanks again! I hope you enjoyed this!

October Morning- First off, congrats on being reviewer number 200! (I'm mostly shocked this got that many reviews! First story I've gotten so many on! Whee!) And anyone that writes such a long review is definitely special- very few people take the time to write such long and fun-to-read reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed last chapter- I love writing Murtagh's POV, but there's just not as much going on with him as Eragon. As one of my other reviewers said 'There's only so much you can do with a guy in a cell'! Besides, I also enjoy making Eragon go all angsty and be deep in denial… But yeah, I could never picture a world in which Murtagh willingly swore loyalty to Galby, and since finding out someone's true name is so difficult I always kind of doubted Galby knew Murtagh's true name. (As for the bit about 'Practical Magic' I actually have seen that movie, but it was ages ago and I've mostly forgotten it by now! I do remember that I liked it though.) As for how quickly I updated, I managed to get quite a bit written over Winter Break- I have Chapter 7 completely written (all 5 parts…) and have started Chapter 8. I hope I won't need to worry about lags in updates anymore! Again, thanks so much for reading and enjoying this! I hope you like next chapter just as much!

LillyHeart – Thanks! I'm so glad you like it! I always try to make my stories seem somewhat realistic, and so far I think I've done OK with this one! Thanks so much for the compliments- but me, an expert? At 16, I'm hardly an expert on anything, but I'm so ecstatic you liked it! (And thanks for the smexy comment- I always try to keep everything smexy! )

CaramelBoost – I'd probably fear for his sanity too! As well as mine… but I think I stopped being sane a while back! I know how badly they butchered the movie- I was so disappointed, but I still think the actor who played Murtagh (Garrett Hedlund, who I have just decided will be my future husband despite him being six years my senior…) is the hottest thing this far from the sun… Thanks! I'm so glad you like this so far!


	14. If Only

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

Notes: Yes, I know this is kinda early, but Friday the Thirteenth made me do it! I would have updated the other day if the site had been WORKING properly- it wasn't letting me upload anything! Enjoy!

Dedicated to my beta, Shauna!

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

Last Week:

Eragon could feel Thorn's calculating stare leveled at him.

He looked down.

"I'll be going then." He turned, giving Saphira one last absent pat on her snout before walking out the large doors of the building.

**In Dreams VII, Part B**

Eragon had barely entered Orrin's castle when he was stopped by a messenger.

"Sir Eragon!" she called, running up to him. Her face was flushed, as if she had been running for a long time. She stopped in front of him, breathing heavy. "Lady Nasuada called a meeting for you and the elves a half hour ago to discuss your progress, sir. I am to take you to her now that I've found you."

The messenger didn't add the 'finally' Eragon could hear in her tone, but she didn't need to. Guilt shot through him.

"Then please, lead the way." he requested. The messenger straightened, still breathing heavy from her recent exertion, and turned. She began walking quickly, not even checking to see if the blue Rider was following.

The brunette fell into step behind her, following her up two flights of stairs and down half a dozen corridors before she finally stopped in front of a room Eragon didn't recognize.

She knocked twice.

"Rider Eragon has arrived." she called, bouncing back and forth on her feet as if impatient to leave.

"Send him in."

Eragon swallowed nervously. Nasuada's voice was easy to recognize, even through a heavy wooden door, and she didn't sound too pleased at having been kept waiting.

As the messenger opened the door for him, he stepped through, moving quickly so that the door didn't hit him as the girl released it.

Hearing the door click shut behind him, he bowed low.

"My apologies, Lady Nasuada. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." he muttered, uncomfortably aware of the stares directed at him.

"Acknowledged and accepted, Eragon." Nasuada replied quickly, though her voice was strained. "Please take a seat so we can finish this meeting. We began without you, as our messengers were unable to locate you."

Guiltily, Eragon straightened and glanced around the room in an attempt to find a chair.

In his observations, he noticed the room was an almost perfect square, being just a bit more long than wide. There were only four statues in the room, one for each corner, and a beautiful chandelier above the rectangular wooden table.

Eragon was about to look closer at the statues- all were made out of pure white marble, and all four figures had large white wings- when he remembered what Arya had told him about the artwork in the castle.

'"...several couples sent their king pieces of their finest art on their wedding day..."'

Shaking himself, he looked at the chairs surrounding the table.

Nasuada sat at the head of the table, with three chairs on each side of the rectangular wooden slab. Another chair- occupied by Oromis- was at the end of the table.

There were two open chairs. On his left, there was an open chair next to Vanir- Eragon almost scowled at the very thought!- and on his right, there was an open chair between Kyrin and...

Arya.

Keeping his head down, Eragon quickly moved left, not making eye contact with anyone in the room as he settled himself in the hard-backed wooden chair.

"Vanir, would you be so kind as to inform the Rider what we have discussed so far?" Arya asked the dark-haired elf. "We shall continue with the meeting, but it may be difficult for Eragon to follow as he is uninformed of several matters we have already covered today."

"I shall." Vanir answered.

Eragon could feel Arya's stare leveled at him for a moment before the elf princess turned away.

He finally looked up, turning slightly to the side so he could face Vanir. Unsurprisingly, he was met with a scowl.

"Since it took you so long to get here, I'll try to cover everything we've discussed so far. Pay attention- I'm not repeating anything." Vanir grumbled. Eragon nodded, fighting the urge to return the elf's scowl in kind.

"At the beginning of the meeting, we informed the Lady of the ritual cast, and that a counter-ritual does exist. Svara and Oromis will be working on the adjustments to the ritual tomorrow. The day after, we cast. Our task will be to prepare what we can for the ritual-"

"So quickly?" Eragon interrupted. "Surely we'd need more time to perfect it?"

Vanir's scowl deepened.

"Lady Nasuada hasn't told us the reason for our haste- so far, the only thing she has told us is that she's still unable to locate the traitor who told Galbatorix the Varden would be using the castle as a base. Are you able to remember what I summarized for you?"

"I think I can manage." Eragon returned coldly. Vanir sniffed indignantly and turned his attention back to the meeting. The Rider did likewise.

"Are you certain?" Arya asked, her tone shocked. Realizing he had missed something important, Eragon looked towards Nasuada.

He hadn't noticed when he had arrived, as he had kept his head down, but the Varden's leader seemed exhausted and weary. She was currently rubbing her temple with one hand, eyes tightly shut as though she suffered from a terrible headache.

"All we know is that Uru'baen has been very active lately. I'm worried that Galbatorix is planning to attack Surda directly, now that he no longer has Murtagh as a pawn. When I spoke with King Orrin, he agreed with me. And..." She sighed, removing her hand from her head and opening her eyes.

"This is just another rumor, but I've heard it from several of our people hiding in Alagaesia. Shurikan- Galbatorix's dragon- has been seen flying in the area around Uru'baen. I fear this means the King himself has finally come down from his throne and is planning on being a part of the attack."

"What?" Eragon asked, shocked and not a little afraid. "But that means..."

"He's planning on making the next battle the last." Oromis finished. "Before the Varden gains more support. If we were to gain Murtagh- a Dragon Rider- as an ally, and the people saw the Varden as having more power than Galbatorix... He's afraid his people will rebel against him. While he still has the advantage of numbers, he'll try to wipe us out."

"It makes perfect tactical sense, but this means we absolutely must not fail." Kyrin added solemnly. "How much time have we until we're to meet the King in battle?"

Nasuada met his stare firmly for a moment before sighing and relaxing back into her chair wearily.

"The information couldn't be sent by bird, so all the information I now have was transported secretly on the ground. If the letters speak truly, then we have less than a month."

"A month?!" Svara cried out. Nasuada nodded.

"King Orrin will be sending out messengers tomorrow to try and recruit more people for our side. Any battle-ready citizen will be accepted. Any criminals or prisoners in the jails will receive a full pardon if they fight, and any villager willing to join us will be given enough gold to feed their family for a year. Even with those incentives, we'll never match the numbers or skills of Galbatorix's army."

"Is that why we must perform the ritual so soon?" Eragon asked. Nasuada nodded.

"As we are, our chances of winning are next to nothing. Even if we had numbers on our side, our chances wouldn't much improve. I hate to say this, but our victory may depend entirely on the success of this ritual. While still not great, with two Riders our chance of surviving this battle is that much greater. Should this fail..." Nasuada's voice trailed off for a moment in the silence, but then she took a deep breath and continued.

"Should this fail, the Varden will take any man still willing and head into battle. We will go out in a blaze of glory, and take as many of the enemy with us as we can. Hopefully we can at least prevent any harm befalling Surda."

Staring at the faces of the others around the table, Eragon knew he wasn't the only one thinking that, should the ritual fail and they die, Surda would fall to Alagaesia.

And once Surda and the Varden were eradicated, doubtless Du Weldenvarden and Farthen Dur would soon follow.

"Meeting adjourned." Nasuada murmured quietly, her voice weak.

The shuffling of chairs sounded loud in the silence, as the elves and Rider stood. Nasuada stayed seated, staring down at the table with a lost look on her face.

Eragon wanted to move to comfort her- she had been a friend to him while in the Varden, and was a wonderful leader for the people- but what did one say to a leader when she knew the fate of her people lay in the success or failure of one ritual?

What did one say to comfort a girl who had to bury her father and then watch as her father's dream died?

The Rider looked away, ignoring Vanir as the elf moved passed him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nasuada wave Arya away, the elf princess nodding with a barely concealed look of concern on her face.

He was just about to leave when Nasuada's voice stopped him.

"Eragon, I would like to speak with you."

He stopped by the door, turning back to face the Varden's leader.

When he saw Arya moving towards the door- and therefore, him- he looked away, shuffling to the side and being careful not to look at the elf as she exited the room.

He could feel her eyes on him for a moment before the door shut behind her.

"Please, sit down. This shouldn't take long." Nasuada told him, motioning vaguely to one of the many recently vacated chairs. Uncertainly, Eragon moved to the closest chair, sitting down and turning himself slightly so he could look directly at Nasuada.

When there was nothing but silence for almost a whole minute as Nasuada got her thoughts in order, Eragon spoke.

"What did you need to speak with me about?" he asked.

"The ritual. You're our only Rider, Eragon, and while I only know the basics of magic I know enough." She stared directly at him, eyes tired but determined, resigned but accepting. "You are the Varden's only hope. While the ritual does require five magicians to perform, I could ask one of the Varden's other magicians to fill in. There would still be a chance of success, but I must admit that chance is not as high. On the other hand, we wouldn't risk losing you just before our final battle. To lose our only Rider..." Nasuada took another deep breath. "It would be a blow to our morale, and without you we stand no chance against Galbatorix."

Eragon looked down. It was true, but even so...

"I am still leaving the decision up to you." she added.

Eragon nodded slowly.

"I... I believe we can do it." he began, not looking at Nasuada. "But I don't think that the amount of power needed is within our reach unless I am the fifth magician. I need to do this."

He heard Nasuada sigh, but the sound was more wistful than sad.

"I thought you would say that. I just wanted to make sure your heart was fully in this before I allowed you to go through with it."

Eragon jerked his head up, staring at the dark-skinned woman with wide eyes. She smiled thinly at him.

"For all our sakes, I hope you succeed. I will not prevent you from participating, but do not fail." She waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal.

The Rider nodded again, standing up and moving to the door.

"And Eragon."

He looked back.

"I hope you succeed for your sake as well."

From her tone, Eragon doubted she was referring to the fact that the ritual would mean his death if he failed. Her eyes seemed to hold secrets and they were suddenly far too intelligent for his liking.

"Thank you." he responded hesitantly, pushing on the door and slipping out of the room.

He pretended he couldn't feel her eyes on his back as the door shut behind him.

As the door clicked shut, he paused in the hall for a breath or two.

'Does she know too?' he asked himself, hands clenching into fists. 'Why now? Why can't everything go back to the way it was, before...'

He cast his mind back, searching for a time before his abnormality had become such a problem, searching for a time when he had been 'normal'.

He became furious with himself- and the world in general- when he discovered such a time didn't exist. For as long as he could remember, he had never glanced twice at a woman. The only exception was a certain elf princess not so long ago, in a desperate attempt to ignore his horrible longings for someone that had- up until recently- been his enemy.

Pretending to love and care for someone could never compare to the actual feelings of frustration, want, and protectiveness that came with true devotion.

The image of hazel eyes appeared before him, a teasing glint in their depths.

Eragon's hands tightened, nails digging into his palms.

_Warm arms wrapping around him from behind, pulling him against a comfortable, smooth chest._

_A gentle whisper in his ear._

_"Eragon, I'll always-"_

"Eragon!"

He was drawn out of his brief daydream by the call of his name.

Chocolate eyes jerked up, looking down the hall in the direction the voice had come from.

Arya was walking towards him. Intellectually, the Rider knew she probably only wanted to discuss the ritual, but he couldn't face her now.

'Maybe I'm just being paranoid- if she doesn't know, I have no reason to be afraid.' he thought, then mentally shook himself.

'I'm not afraid! I know she knows- I can't...'

The elf princess was just feet from him.

'I can't deal with this now.'

Eragon bowed slightly, keeping his face down as he spoke.

"Arya svit-kona." he greeted. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling well, and the hour is late. I'll rejoin you and the other magicians after we break fast tomorrow, if you have no objections."

Even without looking up, he knew Arya was taken aback. Still, the elf princess sounded as composed as ever when she responded.

"That's quite all right, Eragon. I was planning to retire soon myself, and just wanted to inform you that we were planning on meeting inside the Magic Library on the second floor after we took our first meal."

The Rider could tell she was about to speak again and quickly spoke again.

"I thank you for telling me. I shall see you tomorrow." he mumbled, straightening up just enough so it wouldn't be awkward to walk and hurrying past the elf.

He didn't look at her as he moved down the hall, but he could feel her eyes following him, picking him apart and laying all his secrets bare.

He didn't look behind him or look up from the floor until he was safely in his room. Even there, his eyes avoided the beautiful wardrobe he had used to admire.

He leaned against his door, taking several deep breaths to calm down.

Everything was happening so fast- too fast. It was as if his life was going by at warp speed, and it was all he could do to hang on.

Everything had started spiraling downwards from the moment he had captured his brother. If he had never captured Murtagh...

If he had never fallen in love with the red Rider...

If he had never met Murtagh...

Angry again, he slammed the side of his fist against the door.

If, if, if!

If only he was 'normal'! If only he had never found Saphira's egg! If only he had stayed in Carvahall!

If only Murtagh had died, instead of being captured by Galbatorix...

Instantly, shame and sorrow spread through him. He collapsed against his door.

Even the thought of the red Rider dying made his chest constrict painfully.

Hazel eyes smiled at him in his imagination.

His chest grew tighter, and he slowly drew in shuddering breath after shuddering breath.

Angry, frustrated, and scared as he may be, he couldn't find regret anywhere inside of him. He couldn't regret meeting Murtagh, no matter what the situation now.

And that, in turn, made his fear grow.

"What do I do now?" he whispered to the empty room, burying his face in his hands.

An image of Talc's bloody face suddenly crossed his mind.

Roran's bruised knuckles.

A bloody hand, reaching for help from the darkness of that ally.

The jeers of the people in Carvahall.

The hate.

The violence.

The shame.

"No..." Eragon whispered to himself. "So many people can't be wrong. I'm wrong. This... this isn't normal. Surda's wrong, the elves are wrong. This is... it's not right."

'"I pity anyone who fears love over all else."'

Arya's words came back to him with a vengeance, but he with one violent shake of his head they scattered and shattered on the pillars of so-called 'truth' he had been forcefully taught as a young farm boy at Carvahall.

Eragon swallowed thickly, pushing himself onto shaky feet.

If he just repressed these urges, like a plant without sunlight, they would disappear. If he just ignored his dreams and concentrated solely on battle, eventually he would become normal.

He had to.

He stumbled over to his bed, too awake to sleep, but he needed somewhere comfortable to rest his weary body.

He didn't bother removing his boots or clothes- even his cloak stayed on- and just lay on his stomach, facing the wall, hands below his head.

"I can ignore it. If I ignore it long enough, I'll be normal." he told himself, wishing the words didn't ring so false in his ears and his heart didn't ache with some emotion he was unwilling to name.

As he lay awake that night, hazel eyes haunted him, as well as the memory of a toned body moving with grace and speed few possessed.

_Slight half-smiles danced in his memory._

_Tenderness and warm comfort._

_The simple joy of just being..._

_Together._

_"Eragon..."_

Eragon shut his eyes tightly, trying to force out the images.

_"Forever?"_

"No..." he whispered.

_"Yes."_

TBC… 

A/N: And so, Chapter 7B comes to a close! Only Parts C, D, and E left, and then Chapter 8! Yay!

Next Week: Some background on rituals, and the preparation for the ritual!

Review Replies!

Ashyx – So you like Thorn? I do too, actually! He's just so awesome- I really want to explore his personality a bit, seeing as C.P. really hasn't done a thing with him… Did you enjoy shopping with your sister? (And I'm usually up until 1 AM or 2 AM writing this- I'm just a night owl, I guess! You must be a day person, huh?) I'm just glad you like this! Don't worry about the quality of the review- yours was perfect!

Shauna – Aw, yeah you can overdo it on the praise! Really, I'm likely to get a swelled head with how often you compliment me! I'm so happy you like this! (And I promise I'll have 8 done soon for you, since I KNOW you'll be bugging me about this story until it's finished!)

Xokobio – My dad's birthday is only once a year- I'm more hopeful for my birthday to come multiple times, and I'll probably post a chapter on my birthday for everyone! (Assuming, of course, that this is still going when my birthday rolls around- it's in October!)

Sirana – Her statement about pitying anyone that fears love… I loved that statement too! It just popped into my head while writing that scene, and it just seemed so perfect I had to add it in. (I'm sort of speaking through Arya at that point, but I definitely think it's something she would say!) I know what you mean about being surprised how well things work out when you think about them- I've had several ideas that inspired scenes, and every one of my ideas had helped make my story seem more 'canon', even though the pairing isn't quite canon… Chapter 8 will be here sooner than we know it! I'll try to work on a sequel to Bowling, but I'm mostly concentrating on In Dreams for now. I'll probably get around to writing a sequel to Bowling this summer! (I LOVE vacation!)

Ore no Naruto – Thanks! I try! As for Roran… he'll show up later. Originally I wasn't planning on including him, but then I had this great idea… I'll end that with saying he'll be showing up within the next few chapters! I'm not usually a fan of incest either (I prefer NaruSasu to ItaSasu, since I'm such a yaoi freak… I absolutely love anime and manga, though I hate what the dubbers did to Naruto…) but this pairing was simply too cute. Don't worry, there is plenty of slash to go around later on!

Thebrunetteditz – Thanks! I hope this lives up to your expectations!

Alsdssg – That movie is so funny! Whenever I watch it (I had to buy it, if only for the 5 minutes and 14 seconds Murtagh is in the film), I point and laugh at all the ridiculous lines! And yes, Eragon is indeed in trouble! I have so much fun torturing that poor boy…

ginovaef4 – Thanks! I'm so happy you like this! I try to keep them as IC as possible while having them be in love with each other, so I'm glad to hear that I'm mostly succeeding! And I know what you mean about there being few well-written fics on these two- most people follow the canon pairings, or pair themselves up with a character, so everything besides the gay incest pairing for this series has a large amount of fanfics. Any small fandom will usually have fewer well-written stories. Ah well, so long as you find one it isn't all bad, ne? I agree with you- the movie wasn't horrible, but it wasn't as good as the books. I still bought it- well, had my mother buy it. I watch it sometimes, just for inspiration or to get into an 'Eragon' mood so I can write In Dreams. (And of course, to see Garrett Hedlund. A lot of my friends think he's okay, not all that hot, but I have no clue what they're talking about. I just see his NAME and I squeal like the crazed fangirl I am! I'm even determined to watch the movies he has been in- starting with Four Brothers. I've gone to YouTube and looked up videos on him. He's just too sexy to resist!) And I'm cure you'll love the ending to In Dreams!

Kaylen – No problem! I've always liked Arya as a character- she doesn't do a whole lot of developing, in my opinion, in the series itself. A lot of people seem to hate her, but you can't hate a character just because she rejected the main character of a story a few times. She's cool in her own right, so why not use her to help along the slash? Thanks- I'm glad they're IC! You know I try! I know some people are exclusively Eragon fangirls or Murtagh fangirls (if I had to pick, I'm definitely a Murtagh fangirl!) but they're hottest together, like you said! I hope you enjoy the rest of this story!

FangedWriter – Congratulations! You're on time! And I hope you enjoy the movie- I had to buy it! I saw it in theaters with a friend of mine (and actually, I may never have picked up the series if I didn't have a serious crush on the guy that invited me to the movies with his family and ordered me to read the book beforehand… But that's another story!). I know the movie isn't very close to the book, but my main complaint about that is that Murtagh didn't get more screen time… (I am so in love with that actor- Garrett Hedlund. He is hot!)

EmpyrealFantasy – Hm… having Arya smash Eragon's head into a wall will be taken into consideration! Just kidding, but that would be funny! Oh please, the second best story? Always aim for first- you could very easily beat In Dreams, I'm sure! This is hardly the most popular Eragon fanfic on this site, I'm sure. (Would be nice, but surely this isn't that good!) Thanks- I'm so glad you like it!

Shadow of Darkness 22 – I'm so happy you're enjoying this so much! As for the vampire books, I didn't like New Moon as much as Twilight, but I still love New Moon. I'm planning on making my mom get me the special edition of New Moon when it comes out so I can read the first chapter of Eclipse! I'll update as soon as I can!

Jo:D – I'm glad you like it! Stay tuned!

Peachie Bunni – Thanks! I'm so glad you like it! I'm glad I manage to keep them IC and have yaoi- we most certainly wouldn't want me to take THAT out… I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Brandi N. Jones – Hooked? Then I guess I must still be doing okay! And I find it's always fun to have characters be intuitive and nudge relationships along, rather than force them. This just makes it so much more fun! Also, tying seemingly insignificant things to the plot is fun- something you would never expect, when you add another dimension, just makes the story that much more alive. It really keeps you on your toes too! Arya's views on love are actually my own- I just see love as being love, and that can't be wrong. Love is something beyond our power, as humans, to define. We shouldn't try to- happiness is what matters in a relationship, not the gender of the people sharing it. And genius? Me? Aw, you're too much! I'm just a simple girl with a hobby. As for that line being the tagline- I had no clue I was going to add that line until the second I wrote it in that chapter. (In fact, that whole conversation just wrote itself into the story- I never know exactly what will happen with this sometimes, since the characters seem to enjoy taking control of this…) But I do agree- it would be a great tagline! I'll try to keep the chapters just as beautiful!

Devious Ava – Aw, thanks! I try! I'll do my best to keep the chapters up to snuff- I hope you continue to enjoy this! (And I love making Eragon angst- trials just make a relationship so much more rewarding once we finally get to the fun part!)

Tarnished Imminence – Thanks! I enjoy writing, and it's a major hobby of mine. Most of the details and things (as well as plot points!) seem to write themselves, and they just fall into the story and make it flow. Most of my favorite scenes (now and in the future) are scenes that jumped in when I was writing the outline. I know I love stories where my favorite characters are in character, but stories that are original enough to be interesting. I always try to make my stories something I would like to read, and I always aim to keep everything as realistic and interesting as possible! Thanks again!

Meemei – Thanks! I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Geek Squared 1307 – I'm glad you like this! I find that stories flow better and are just more interesting when everything has a purpose. (Believe it or not, that whole conversation with Arya was unplanned- it decided to add itself in, as well as Surda's history and that interesting bit about the wardrobe's background. It just seemed to fit so well- and give Eragon more chances for angst…) I'm glad they're IC so far! I'm trying to keep them that way!

InsaneBlackHeart – Poor Saphira indeed! I hope you enjoyed this!

xDragonRiderx – Thanks! I hope you liked this chapter just as much, and that you keep on reading! Though from the sound of it, you don't seem to be able to stop… I'll do my best to keep the chapters good!

Sakura evil twin of Sango – It's quite all right, m' dear! I'm sorry about your computer- I hate it when mine doesn't want to work properly! I'm so happy you like this story enough to tell your friend about it! I hope you continue to enjoy this!

October Morning- As usual, the longest review out of any I have gotten this chapter! (I always know when you review without even looking at the name- the Review Alerts I get are always way bigger for your reviews than anyone else's! I hope that made sense…) I just constantly worry about IC-ness, especially in some chapters! I don't want OOCness at all, but sometimes it's really hard to avoid- especially in a slash fic! (And just to make you happier, this is actually less than halfway through- Chapter 13 will probably be the longest chapter by far, and I'm only just now working on the second bit of Chapter 8. If we assume that Chapter 13 is going to be 5 parts long, than if we combine that with the 2 I have written for Chapter 8 and the 4 other parts (including this part I posted today) of Chapter 7, that's 11 more chapters at least, not counting the other parts of Chapter 8 I have yet to write (my guess is it will be 4 parts long) or Chapters 9, 10, 11, and 12. Basically- because I doubt I'd understand that last sentence- we're more like a third or a fourth of the way through. Ah well, this thing is already novel length (judging by what I have written, not posted- 158 pages is a short novel, but a novel nonetheless. This monster might end up having 200-300 pages by the time I'm done…) so I guess a little more won't hurt… And I just think Garrett Hedlund is so hot. I've actually gone out and rented/borrowed movies that have him in it, and I've never done that before in my life. I barely know the names of actors, but I can tell you Garrett's full name (including his middle name, 'John') and exactly what roles he has had in what movies he has been in, including the movies I have not yet seen. (Most of my friends say he really isn't that hot- they just barely agree enough to say 'cute', and they drool over guys I see nothing in. I guess I'm just weird… Though this bi guy I know says that he was hot as Murtagh. Even if it was just because my friend has a thing for archers, he still admitted Garrett was hot.) Sorry- tendency to ramble! Yeah- I'm only 16. Pretty young, but that gives me plenty of time to improve my writing enough to get published! (My dream… though I'm pretty sure that you're sick of hearing it after all the times I've said it…) My English teachers have always stressed 'show, don't tell', and I fully believe it. It just makes for a choppy story and bad visual if people just say things without making it seem like the characters are actually feeling the emotion. The smallest details can make an emotion that much more real, you know what I'm saying? As for Arya, I've always kind of liked her as a character- I can never hate the female characters of a series if they're one of 'the good guys', even if they do come between a slash pairing. Heck, I can never hate any character that's a 'good guy'! Even the bad ones I love sometimes- besides, some characters are just so fun to explore, and just SO useful… I've really wanted to bring Saphira in more, but so much of this story is just Eragon's struggle with his feelings- feelings he doesn't want Saphira to know- that's it's difficult to keep bringing her in. She'll definitely be showing up more in the future, though! Thorn and Saphira are awesome together- I agree with you there. Even without the whole 'we're-the-last-dragons' thing, I'd still probably pair them together. (I was going to post this chapter on Friday the 13th, but the website hasn't been letting me upload any documents to post…) Enjoy! Sorry for the long-windedness of my reply!


	15. Preperation

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Notes! Dedicated to my beta, Shauna, and I'd like to inform you all of another fanfic that is of the EragonxMurtagh pairing. I think this particular fanfic is pretty good, so please check it out everyone! It's called 'Clandestine' by EmpyrealFantasy- check it out!

I'd like to recommend a Four Brothers fanfic to anyone that has seen the movie- the fanfic 'Bobby Teases Jack' by none other than myself! I posted it just a bit ago, and it's based off of one of the deleted scenes on the DVD of Four Brothers. Please feel free to check it out!

Yes, I know I just posted three days ago and this is way early, but I wanted to post something to dedicate to the Day of Silence. (For those of you who don't know what it is, feel free to ask me!)

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**In Dreams VII, Part C**

After a long night spent studying his wall, Eragon pulled himself out of bed as the sun rose in the sky. He could remember lightly dozing off several times, but thankfully wasn't tired due to the nap he had taken on Saphira's back.

Looking down at himself- more specifically, his clothes- he decided the dark brown shirt he wore wasn't too badly wrinkled, and the sturdy leather pants didn't look slept in.

He could get away with wearing this for today.

Eragon tugged at his shirt a bit, smoothing it out slightly. With a quick adjustment of his cloak, he deemed himself presentable and left his room.

He wasn't particularly hungry, and so -informing a passing messenger that he'd be skipping breakfast so none would wonder at his whereabouts- he headed for the second floor.

Having some background knowledge on rituals may prove useful in the near future.

Insert Line

When the elves arrived some hours later, Eragon was deeply engrossed in a text about ancient rituals and how some were performed, with runes drawn clearly on the faded yellow pages.

At the sound of the door opening, Eragon glanced up to see who had entered. At the sight of the elves, he marked his page with a small black bookmark he had found on one table and put it aside.

He had chosen the largest of several round tables in the enormous room. The large, dark purple plush chair he currently sat in was one of eight around the large circular slab.

He had wandered around the bookshelves- all books were organized by the type of magic they primarily dealt with, then arranged in alphabetical order by title- and had been a bit disappointed as there were so few book dealing with rituals. Still, from the shelves dealing with that particular brand of magic, he had found three volumes that had given him a decent amount of background information with which to assist the elves.

He had been a third of the way through the second book he had selected when the elves arrived.

Svara and Oromis were the first to enter, the former carrying a large, yellowed scroll covered slightly with dust and several smaller scrolls that were clean and white. Oromis had a heavy text beneath one arm, and also held various writing instruments.

Vanir, Kyrin, and Arya were seconds behind the two spellweavers. None in the second group carried anything- the Rider assumed they were to be given a related task that didn't deal with books.

Svara and Oromis dumped their burdens on the table Eragon was seated at, Svara wasting no time in carefully unrolling the ancient scroll she had carried in, revealing a smaller scroll inside of the larger one. The smaller of the two she placed to the side, continuing her task of opening the larger scroll.

Once unrolled, the paper turned out to be a perfect square, with a circular design in the center covering nearly the entire paper. Eragon recognized the setup from one of the books he had just read- while not identical, the design on the paper before him being far more complex- as being the setup for a rite.

He studied it for a moment.

In the center of the innermost circle- for there were three, creating two outer layers with symbols the Rider deemed to be runes inside the 'layers'- there was a pentagram. From what Eragon had read, most rituals could be performed by any number of magicians, but most reached peak effectiveness with five magicians at the five points of a pentagram.

Runes lined the outer edges of the lines of the five-pointed star, but the area inside those lines was clear and unmarked, save for the slightly thicker lines tracing the pentagon at the heart of the design.

Outside of the largest circle, five circles were drawn using runes instead of solid black lines. The circles were drawn where the points of the pentagram would reach had the star extended beyond the solid circles surrounding it.

From what he had read, Eragon knew the person the ritual was being performed on would stand or lay at the center of the pentagram while the magic users performing said rite would stand outside the design. From the looks of the runic circles drawn at the points of the five-pointed star, Eragon was certain those circles indicated where the magicians would stand.

As he heard the crinkle of old paper sound again, he looked up. Svara was unrolling the second, smaller scroll with just as much care as she had the first. With some surprise, he noticed that all five elves were now around the table, all save Oromis looking at the scrolls the silver-haired elf female was unveiling.

Even before she set it down, the Rider could tell the scroll was rectangular, it being much longer than it was tall. Once unrolled, Svara turned the scroll so that it was tall instead of wide.

Shifting closer, Eragon took a good look at the second scroll.

It was a simple drawing of the human body. The figure was male, but completely featureless. The only items drawn on the figure were runes. Two runes were on his face, one below each eye, and the figure's chest was dotted sparsely with small black markings. The runes didn't extend below the figure's navel.

The back side of the body was shown directly next to the front, with complicated symbols also dotting the figure's back.

"This scroll-" Svara explained, pointing to the first she had opened. "- is the original form of the counter ritual we'll be performing tomorrow. Oromis and I will work on adding a third layer to the outtermost circle for power amplification." As she spoke, she traced a circle around said outside layer.

'That will be the most dangerous part- if any of the runes they choose interfere or react violently with the runes already in place the ritual could very easily go awry.' Eragon thought, recalling something else he had read. Chocolate eyes scanned the scroll again.

'There's easily two hundred runes there. Ordinarily, they'd need at least three days for so much work.' Lifting his eyes, he stared at Oromis and Svara for a moment.

Svara seemed weary but determined, fire burning behind her irises that made Eragon believe. Oromis didn't quite have the same burning determination, but rather resigned acceptance, but the Rider knew the old elf wouldn't give anything less than his best.

"And this-" she continued, now motioning towards the second scroll. "- is how we must prepare Murtagh's body tomorrow. These runes have to be copied exactly as they are in position and scale- one mistake here and we're done before we've even started."

Eragon nodded, hearing various mutters of assent from other elves around him.

"What task is set for us to accomplish?" Kyrin asked, looking up from his study of the scroll.

It was Oromis who answered.

"I'll give you a list of ingredients- I would like you and Vanir to create the paint we need. The most difficult part will be tracking down the ingredients, though I do have some of the rarer items in my room. You'll be needing a lot of every item on the list- best to have as much as possible." The old elf turned to Arya. "You are to find a large room- preferably in a perfect square- for us to perform the ritual in. Also inform Lady Nasuada of the room you have chosen, then make sure the room will be clean for tomorrow."

"What should I do?" Eragon asked as Oromis paused to take a breath.

The old elf turned to him.

"See to it that Murtagh will be prepared for tomorrow. Simply make sure a healer visits him and he'll be given a bath. Once you have secured that, come back here to assist Svara and me."

Briefly, Eragon felt his heart clench at the mention of the red Rider, but quickly got himself under control.

'I don't have to see him.' he reassured himself quickly, going over Oromis's orders in his mind. 'I'll just tell Krin and come straight back.'

"All right." he replied, turning to go.

The sooner he found Krin and delegated his task to the guard, the less likely he would give in to the temptation- the infuriatingly hard to ignore temptation- or overseeing the task personally.

'I promised myself I wouldn't give in.' he reminded his heart, ignoring the cries of protest. 'I just decided last night that it was wrong, and I believe that. I do.'

Even though the words were only in his mind, they seemed horribly fake.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon left the library, quickly followed by Arya, Kyrin, and Vanir. Once outside, they split into separate groups, the Rider heading left down the hall, and the elves heading right.

The Rider could feel eyes on his back for one brief instant before he turned the corner, but quickly shoved the feeling to the back of his mind.

'She doesn't know anything. What would she know of any of this?' he thought furiously, knowing that Arya had been watching him closely since she had arrived.

Mood darkening, the Rider moved quickly through the halls.

'Krin should be on guard duty this morning, but if I send a messenger down I shouldn't have to face _him_ at all.' Eragon thought, brightening a bit at the thought.

Even though he wasn't worried about seeing Murtagh again- he was quite steadfastly telling himself there was no reason to worry- it would be quicker, easier, and much more productive to track down a messenger and have him or her send the message secondhand to Krin so the green-eyed teen could complete the task Oromis had set for Eragon.

Right.

He sighed wearily.

'This may take a while.'

Insert Line

As predicted, it took almost an hour and a half for Eragon to locate a messenger without a message to deliver.

After calling the girl aside and telling her what information she needed to deliver to Krin- even going so far as to show the girl where the dungeons were, as the entrance was in a less-traveled area of the castle- Eragon still hesitated at the top of the stairs.

His duty was done. He had made sure that Murtagh would get a healing and a bath- well, as sure as he could when he didn't personally oversee it, but...

Hazel eyes flashed in his mind, soft lips opening to ask him a question the blue Rider didn't have an answer to.

_"Eragon."_

_"Do you...?"_

Shaking himself, he turned away from the steps.

It was time to return to the library. He was certain the messenger could deliver his orders to Krin, and then the teen would certainly carry out the simple tasks...

It wasn't worth worrying about.

Not that Eragon was worried.

Ignoring the sound of the messenger climbing back up the stairs, the blue Rider began walking back to assist Oromis and Svara.

Insert Line

When the Rider reentered the library, Svara was looking through the heavy tome Oromis had carried in, the old elf himself carefully drawing and then scratching out symbols on one of the clean sheets of paper the female elf had carried in.

Svara glanced up briefly as the door closed behind Eragon, but then quickly looked back down at the book laid open on the table.

"Oromis would like to speak with you, Rider." she told him, voice slightly distracted as she copied down a complicated symbol on a scrap of paper Eragon noticed next to the book on the table.

The brunette nodded, despite the fact Svara wasn't looking up to see the gesture, and moved uncertainly towards the older of the two elves.

Oromis didn't look up for several moments, but eventually straightened up and turned to face Eragon. As he did, the blue Rider caught sight of what Oromis had been working on.

It seemed to be a rough sketch of the design Eragon had seen earlier, but with one major difference. The design on the paper before him had a third layer of runes, a layer only partially filled with the complex symbols.

Chocolate eyes jerked back up to meet the tired orbs of his former mentor as Oromis began speaking.

"I don't know how familiar you are with the ancient art of rituals. I know the others are all perfectly aware of what goes on, but I feel it's best to warn you-"

"I do know some about rituals," Eragon interrupted. He ignored the elf's annoyed look and pressed on. "Before you arrived this morning I was reading about them." He gestured to the chair he had been sitting in hours ago, the books he had been reading stacked neatly beside it.

"Then, as you're so informed, I suppose you can tell me why all participants in a rite- including the room the rite is performed in- must be cleansed beforehand?" Oromis asked.

"The way the magic flows. Most magic can be done no matter the state of cleanliness of the user, but ritual magic is slightly different and a bit more complex. It has to do with purity of the mind and body." Eragon replied. The old elf nodded, apparently satisfied.

"It's because ritual magic is different and complex that they're rarely used nowadays. Some spells normally performed in rituals- such as the summoning of the fire element- were simplified and weakened when magic users began just using the words as a spoken spell instead of in a ritual with other magicians. The rituals were forgotten, and the weakened versions of the spells kept since the spoken versions required much less to use, and posed less risk to the magicians." Oromis nodded at the sheet of paper he had been working on.

"While modern magic users simply say 'brisingr' to summon a handful of flames, centuries upon centuries ago magicians would create patterns much like this and chant the words of a spell over and over again until their desired result was achieved. The full chant and design of many rites have been lost to time, but the stories remain. It is said that when the element of fire was summoned by ritual, it would appear as a towering figure many miles high and created completely of flames." He shook his head.

"While such creatures would have been useful, they were next to impossible to summon in battle, thus the shift to magic as we know it today."

Eragon nodded. The books he had read had covered some of the same topics, so nothing was news to him.

"Modern magic also rarely endangers the user- it only costs the lives of the foolish and greedy. Those who attempt a spell beyond their power pay for it with their life." Oromis turned back to the sketch he had of the design for the rite they would perform tomorrow.

"However, modern spells can be adjusted so those with knowledge of the Ancient Language can use magic without bringing any harm to themselves. Ritual magic does not allow for limitations to be set. Magic users in those days often gave all of their strength and life to power a rite, which is one reason magic is so rare now."

The old elf traced the unfinished rune layer of the design with a finger. "Rituals are dangerous things. I can't stress that any more than I already have, nor the vast differences in the power of a ritual against the powers of modern day magic. You must be absolutely certain to follow the steps of a rite exactly, or you risk not only your own life, but that of all other magicians in the circle with you."

Oromis met Eragon's eyes again.

"Be sure that you are properly cleansed for tomorrow. Once we have finished our additions to the design, we will be able to create a chant for this rite. Be sure to memorize it perfectly, and while you cast tomorrow you must not stop chanting. No matter what happens, do not stop chanting until the ritual has been completed."

"But Master," Eragon asked. "- how will I know when it's finished?"

"You'll know. I can't say more about it than that."

Oromis then dismissed the Rider with a wave of his hand and turned his attention fully back to the design on the white paper.

"If you like, you may seek out Arya or Vanir and Kyrin to assist them, should they need it. Please inform them to come back here at sunset. By that time, Svara and I should be finished."

"All right." Eragon replied quietly, watching for a moment as Svara handed over the scrap of paper she had been copying symbols down on.

"Here is a likely list. Can we use any of them?" she asked, still scanning through the large book.

Oromis glanced at the page, quickly scanning it.

"I see several that may be of use, but this one here interferes with the rune controlling..."

Eragon turned from the conversation, heading- once again- for the door.

He would be of no use here, and the sooner he informed the others of the meeting set for sunset, the sooner he could do... something. He wasn't quite sure what, but there had to be something for him to do around King Orrin's castle.

Insert Line

Eragon found Kyrin long before he saw a messenger. The Rider spotted the elf as Kyrin headed for the kitchens, a short list of what had to be ingredients in his hand.

"Kyrin," he called out, picking his step up a few paces so he could catch the elf before the other walked out of earshot.

The tall elf male turned to face him, looking up from his list.

"Rider Eragon." he returned respectfully, nodding slightly. "Was there something you needed?"

"I just wanted to inform you that we're to report back to the library at sunset today." the brunette replied, stopping next to Kyrin. "Could you please make certain Vanir knows as well?"

Kyrin nodded.

"I have but three more items to find before rejoining Vanir. I shall make sure he knows."

"Thanks."

Without extra words, they parted ways, Kyrin heading into the kitchens while Eragon began making his way towards his room.

He had no real desire to try and dodge any questions from a certain raven-haired elf princess- sending a messenger to inform Arya would be the easiest course of action.

'"Running from problems rarely solves them."'

His dragon's words haunted him now, just as Arya's had.

'I'm not running.' he tried to reassure himself. 'I'm just choosing the best course of action.'

No matter how many times he had attempted to assure himself of the same thing in the past, and no matter how many times he would try in the future, Eragon doubted he would have any more success at it.

As he reached his room, he quickly contacted Saphira mentally to inform her of just how soon the ritual was to take place

'Can't have her forget to help us. We'll need all the help we can get.'

Insert Line

It was sunset before Eragon ventured out of his room again- he had not had a reason to leave it, and had far too much to think about to be restless.

Most of his thoughts- as much as he tried to distract himself with other matters- had revolved around Murtagh. It was as if there was an invisible thread tying Murtagh to his mind, making it next to impossible to concentrate on anything else.

He headed directly for the library on the second floor, wanting nothing more than the day to be over.

Thoughts of the ritual had also plagued his mind- worries about the effectiveness of the rite, and, most importantly, if it would work.

He did not doubt his own power as a Rider, nor did he doubt the strength of Arya, Svara, Vanir, and Kyrin. It was the power of Galbatorix and Murtagh's own magic he feared.

By the time he arrived at the library, the other elves were already waiting for him.

'This seems to have become a habit.' he thought dryly, inwardly wincing as five pairs of eyes turned to him as the large wooden doors clicked shut behind him.

"Now that we're all here, let's begin." Svara started. "Since we all know what a ritual entails, this is simply to settle a few of the finer details."

Eragon slipped into an unoccupied chair as the silver-haired elf spoke. Vanir and Arya both glanced at him as he settled in his chair, but he ignored both of them.

"First off, Oromis and I have finished the additions. He and I shall trace the design inside the room Arya secured for us earlier today. The paint we have is sufficient in amount- our thanks to Vanir and Kyrin."

The three mentioned elves nodded in reply to the gratitude- it was mostly just formality anyway.

"The ritual is set for dawn tomorrow. Please wake up early and bathe just before coming as to avoid contamination. Eragon has seen to it that Murtagh will be prepared for tomorrow- I'll inform the red Rider of the specifics of the ritual tomorrow morning as I finish preparing him for the rite."

Eragon's mind flashed back to the runes drawn on the figure on the second scroll Svara had carried.

'Better her than me.' he thought, ignoring the brief stab of jealousy as it shot through him.

"It doesn't matter what you wear- be sure to be well rested and clean, but that is all."

Svara glanced down towards a sheet of paper on the table- a long scrap with words written on it in beautifully flowing script. She read directly from the sheet, not having memorized the words yet herself.

"The chant is as follows- please memorize it. 'Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr'."

The blue Rider mouthed the words to himself, noticing the others do the same, save Oromis and Svara.

Dead silence fell over them.

"I wish you all luck. You will most certainly need it." Oromis broke the silence, getting up. Svara quickly followed, the other elves standing as well. The blue Rider stood.

One by one, they shuffled out of the library, silence holding.

As he left the library, Eragon mouth the words to himself again.

'Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr. Release the magic that holds Murtagh in servitude to King Galbatorix.' he thought. 'I just hope we have enough power to make it work...'

TBC…

A/N: Sorry- I know it was probably kind of boring, but it needed to be written! We get to fun stuff soon. Most of the fic will be heavy with the slash, I just need to get there…

On that note, I have figured out about how many chapters this story will end up being (figuring each 'part' as one chapter). I'm figuring somewhere around 50. Hopefully that doesn't sound too incredibly long to anyone- I'm sorry if it is! Please do let me know if I'm going to slow with this story and need to pick it up! I'm doing my best to keep the quality of the story up, but I also want it to be fun to read!

Next Week: We see a certain Rider (Murtagh is back! Wonder what Eragon thinks about that…), and we get the precursor to the ritual! The week after, we have the ritual itself! (Something to look forward too- especially since Chapter 8 will really get the ball rolling on the slash!)

Thank you for your patience with this! I love you all!

Review Replies!

Meemei- Thanks! I usually don't do the incest thing either, but I do so love this pairing. From the moment I saw the two boys- well, read about them in the books- I loved this pairing. I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Peachie Bunni- Thanks! And girls just tend to be more perceptive than guys- not all, though. Guys can be just as – or more – perceptive than girls. I just have fun playing around with the characters! Please continue reading and enjoying this!

victory by grace – Go me! I usually stay loyal to pairings as well- most of the time, when I have one pairing in my head I refuse to accept any alternate pairings for a character. (There are only a few exceptions where I see one character having more than one pairing). So you found me through another author's favorites list? Aw, I feel special! Thanks! And I agree- homophobia is usually not dealt with in stories, but in reality people finding out that they're gay or bisexual aren't usually 'Oh, I'm gay. So what…'. We'll be seeing more of Thorn and of Saphira soon. Not as much as I would like, but it's hard to keep them in. I'm so glad you're enjoying this!

Ore no Naruto – Don't worry- more MurtaghxEragon coming soon to a chapter near you! Yeah, October Morning's reviews are always that long, but I love long reviews! I don't mind. Your grammar, by the way, seems fine to me! I hope you continue enjoying this!

EmpyrealFantasy - Angst is wonderful! I love writing angst… But yes, there is a happy ending. I am incapable of writing a sad one- I always cry at sad endings, and I just love happy endings too much to write a sad ending. Especially to my baby! (That's what I refer to this project as.) And don't put yourself down! Shoot for the moon- even if you don't make it, you'll land among the stars! (Which is astronomically incorrect- the stars are much farther than the moon, but it makes for a good quote anyway…) Thanks again- I'm so happy you like it!

Black Juju – Thanks! Was this update soon enough? Please continue enjoying this!

Ashyx - If it helps, I understood your review perfectly fine! And I actually know what you mean about Thorn- there are so many different ways to create his personality, as Christopher Paolini hasn't given us anything on Thorn… Ah well, that just means more fun for the fic authors! I hate shopping for clothes too! My mom has to drag me to a store to get me to look at anything- I don't even tell her when my jacket zippers (the zipper to a gray jacket I'd had for a year or two, or five) break, or when my shoes (my favorite pair of black boots, in this case) get holes in the sides, all because I hate shopping. I hate trying on clothes, finding out they don't fit, or aren't comfortable, or look awful on me- I could very easily do without the whole business! Anyways, that was my rant on shopping! Sorry! Thanks for reading!

Kagemugen – Thanks! About Solembum's prophecy… actually, hadn't even thought of that. I don't own the books- I've only read each one once, and I've seen the movie twice. I sometimes forget small details like that, but now that you mention it I might be able to work his prophecy into my story. I'll have to look it up and it might be too late for me to put it in but I'll see what comes up. Thanks for mentioning it! (If it helps at all, I've planned out exactly what I'm doing with Angela's Prophecy- and I don't just mean the bit about the epic romance. I've figured out how my story fits every bit of that prophecy- I was happy with myself when I finally figured out how it would work! Go me!) (Update: Because I'm too lazy to rewrite my review reply, I wanted to let you know that you gave me a great idea. Yes, the Vault of Souls and the rock of Kuthian will be in here. Much later on, but they have been written in to the outline! Thank you so much for the reminder- I don't own the books, and so I forget things like that sometimes…) Thank you so much, and I hope you continue enjoying this!

Kaylen – Yeah- sorry! I usually can't tell if a character is too OOC- I'm usually too caught up in writing to realize when a character is OOC. I'll try to do better in the future- promise! As for Roran and the flashbacks, Eragon is just remembering what happened to Talc. But yes, Roran was one of the bashers in that case. Lesse… next to address is the Eragon vs. Murtagh in the Battle for the Sexy Crown. I know most people are either completely for Eragon or for Murtagh. I'm more of a Murtagh fangirl, but Eragon's cute too. They're still always best together! I'm just the same as you it seems- my sister and her friends always gush over this guy named Channing Tatum (or somesuch) and Orlando Bloom, and all these other guys I don't see anything in. I'm glad you liked it- hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much! I hope he wasn't too bad this chapter- so sorry if he was!

FangedWriter – I did the same thing! The second I saw Murtagh, I went from leaning back in my chair to the edge of my seat, leaning forward and eyes fixed on the screen! My friends were all laughing at me, but whatever- he was too hot to resist! I am so obsessed with the actor who played him now… I've even rented movies just so I could see the actor, and I've never even bothered to learn an actor's name before. I was SO pissed when Murtagh didn't get more screen time! Ah well, maybe in the next movie- waitaminute, he had even less 'book time' in Eldest than he did in Eragon, so that means even less screen time… Damnit! Well, maybe Book 3…? (laughs) I'm glad you're enjoying this so far!

xDragonRiderx – Yay- a newbie! Sorry, had to say it! I usually update once a week, so relatively quickly. Sometimes I update more often when I'm in a really good mood, or on days that are important to me. In any case, you will never have to wait months for the next chapter unless I fall REALLY behind. (I shouldn't though, as Summer Vacation is coming up in just about a month and a half, and I have enough chapters prewritten to hold me until then…)

Sakura Evil Twin of Sango – Was this soon enough? I'm glad you like it!

Schnoodle – Thanks! I'll update as often as I can- I promise there will never be a month-long wait in-between chapters! (And I agree with you- In Dreams is my best Eragon fic by far!)

Sirana – Thanks! I don't know if I'll update Chapter 7 more often just because I have lots of it written- I'm not done with Chapter 8 yet, and I like to stay as far ahead as possible so that none of the story seems rushed and so that there aren't any long pauses in between updates. (Better to have as much prewritten as possible and update on a schedule, rather than write a lot, post everything as soon as you write it, and then scramble to get the next chapter done on time. I usually don't have a lot of free time, so on days I do I work on my fanfiction and store the chapters for later posting.) If I manage to get far enough ahead I'll be posting more than once a week! I'm so glad you like this so much!

Thebrunetteditz – It's okay to be a dweeb! So am I! I hope you do enjoy the ritual and I don't let you down too much when I finally post it!

CaramelBoost – No execution needed! It's fine. No, the chapters aren't getting shorter (at least, I don't think they are…). As for why I split them into Parts A, B, C, D, etc., well… First, congrats on being the first to ask! (If I'm remembering rightly, than you're the first to ask that question.) Basically, it's because the chapters were divided into each characters POV when I wrote the outline. All even chapters are from Murtagh's POV and all odd chapters are from Eragon's POV. Most chapters end up being way too long to post, so I split them into parts. I could probably just rename each chapter so I didn't have 'Part (insert letter here)', and just full chapters. Of course, then I couldn't tell you in how many chapters a scene would be coming up… But anyways, congrats on the new little brother! What's his name? (And e-mail me or something, girlie! I miss our 'stories'!) Thanks again- hope to hear from you soon!

October Morning – My responses always make you smile? Aw, that was just SUCH an ego boost for me- now I'm going to get a swelled head… But yes, we're only a little ways into the story. (Another reader mentioned a fact I had forgotten in Book 1- since I don't own the books, I'm kind of dependant on what I remember- and that just added a little bit more on. By 'little bit', I mean I think this story just swelled to a total of 40-50 chapters, this chapter being Chapter 15 (numberwise, each part having its own number). Ah well, hope I make it! I'll do my best!) Anyway, I was happy to see you get your review in too- I know it sounds all praise-whore-ish, but I love having lots of reviews before posting again, especially reviews from you since you're always so specific about what you liked! (Having only a few reviews wouldn't stop me from posting again, but I might get snippy if the review count falls to 5 a chapter or something… I can't help it, I like praise! Now I feel all selfish…) But don't apologize! Getting any review in is great- you don't need to promise to 'be better', since you're already way awesome! I understand about 'show, don't tell' being hard- I always had trouble with that. In fact, some of my older fics (especially my first!) are just so painful for me to look at I've considered deleting them. I read a lot of stories, so I can imagine some things pretty well- might be in trouble later on in this story though. I've never been romantically attached to anyone- I've never had a boyfriend or anything like that. I held hands with a guy once, but that was out of pity for him since he liked me and I didn't like him. (Long story short- I was at my summer camp, a guy convinced himself he liked me, and he asked me to the dance at the end of the 3 weeks of camp. I accepted since he was a friend, but I did stress the 'friend' bit of our 'date'. We didn't dance at all, just sat and talked. He held my hand- I let him since it was the last day and I felt bad enough about not returning his feelings.) I haven't seen Friday Night Lights yet, but I'm watching that movie soon! But if you like Garrett, then you MUST see Four Brothers! I absolutely loved it- he plays Jack Mercer in the movie. Since this is already a very long reply, I won't bore you with a movie summary, but it's good and a movie synopsis is easy enough to find online. Now, onto the review reply about the story part of your review! I'm so glad you enjoyed the story! I'm trying to keep it as good and detailed as possible. I know I haven't had any of the dreams for a little while, but it's hard to include them every chapter. They're back for a little while at least- the only real slash this story has had so far, I'm sorry to say. That will all be changing very soon… Happy reading! (And I hope you'll continue liking my story so much! I try!)


	16. Morning

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Notes! Anyway, I'd like to start off by apologizing to everyone who didn't get an update alert when the last chapter went out, and to the people I owe a review reply. I noticed after I posted last chapter that I wasn't getting review alerts and there were 4 reviews I missed giving a reply to. I'm sorry- the replies are the first replies I wrote in the 'Review Reply' section for this chapter! (This WONDERFUL site seems to have a bit of a bug- and some people may have gotten update alerts, but I never received word that I had updated a new chapter (I usually do get a notice, despite the fact that I already KNOW I posted a new chapter since- duh!- I'm the one who POSTED it!) and haven't been getting review alerts, despite the fact that several people have reviewed.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**In Dreams VII, Part D**

Sleepy chocolate eyes blinked themselves awake at dawn, their owner slowly sitting up in bed.

'Today's the day.' he thought. Eragon shifted his legs to the side of the bed, standing up and stretching out his back.

That accomplished, he headed for his wardrobe. He had taken to looking away from the carving while opening it, and then ignoring the facts behind the creation of the large wooden wardrobe while selecting his clothing.

Within minutes, he had a dark brown set of clothes slung over his arm as he headed to the small bathroom attached to his room.

He had rarely gone into the small room, but even though the room wasn't large it was big enough to hold a small tub. Eragon had made sure to request water be brought to his room so he could prepare for the ritual.

Still groggy from sleep, he looked around the stone room.

The 'tub', if it could be called that, was set up in the corner of the room with a small square of old cloth hung over the side for washing with. Stones had been placed tightly together, held in place by some kind of mortar to ensure that the only way water would leave the tub was through the 'drain' at the bottom. In reality, the drain was only the mouth of a pipe that took the water from the tub- when one removed the stone stopper- to a larger pipe that transported the water outside.

There was another series of pipes that filled the tub from one of the lower levels of the castle, but the explanation for how exactly water managed to defy gravity and move up the pipes had gone right over Eragon's head. Both pipe systems were inventions of King Orrin's father, and- while easy to operate- the Rider highly doubted anyone besides King Orrin and the king's late father understood how it worked.

Eragon moved over to the tub, noticing with relief it had already been filled with water. He set his clothes down on the counter containing a small washbasin before stripping and getting into the water.

The temperature was icy, and he hissed as the chilly water splashed against his skin.

Slowly, he sank in the water until he was chest deep in it, shivering from the cold.

He took a deep breath, dunking his head under and scrubbing viciously at his scalp.

Eragon surfaced, rubbing and blinking the excess water from his eyes as he reached for the rough cloth hung over the side of the rock wall. On his first attempt to find the rag- vision blurry from the water- his hand met stone, but on his second grab he felt cloth under his fingers.

He quickly wetted the rag, submerging it in the water before running the cloth over his body.

'Today's the day.' he thought nervously as he cleaned up. Despite knowing a little about rituals, Eragon had no first-hand knowledge of one. He didn't know quite what to expect, beyond the fact that it would be different than working magic like he usually did.

He wished he had had more time.

They weren't even completely certain that the ritual would work. They didn't know if they were powerful enough to overcome the awesome strength Galbatorix and Murtagh possessed. All they knew was that failure was death- not only for them, but for everyone else in the Varden as well.

In all his days as a Rider, Eragon had become somewhat accustomed to the pressure of having many depend on him, but it seemed as if the full weight of every life in Surda and the Varden suddenly lay on his shoulders.

It was a heavy burden, and he shuddered.

'I must not fail.' he told himself sternly, rubbing his shoulder a bit harder than necessary. 'I can't.'

Through his mind, images flashed. Roran and the people of Carvahall. Krin, a boy without a family member left in this world. Arya, Oromis, Svara, Kyrin- even Vanir. Nasuada. Ajihad. Hrothgar. Garrow. Eruka, and his kindness towards-

'Murtagh.'

- and the nameless others who fought for the cause. The countless people who had died, and the countless more who would die if-

'I will succeed.'

That thought firmly in place, he quickly finished washing up and got out of the bath, grabbing a larger piece of cloth- hanging on a peg near the door- to dry off with. He quickly pulled the stopper from the drain in the tub, hearing the low rush of water as it fell into the pipe system.

He didn't allow himself to think too closely or too much on what he would be doing in less than an hour's time. He quickly dried his hair, practically rubbing the towel into his skull as he attempted to rid his brown locks of all the water. His hair was still damp when he stopped, but workable.

He pulled on his clothes, feeling them stick partially to his skin where he hadn't sufficiently dried off.

Eragon glanced up, staring at the mirror.

The last time he had seen his reflection felt like it had been ages ago, when in fact it had just been a little over a week previous.

He face seemed... thinner, probably because he hadn't been eating or sleeping as well as he should. The recent anxiety over Arya and Nasuada knowing had left his dreams fraught with fear, and the other dreams he had were just as strong as ever...

He turned from the mirror, heading out of the bathroom.

'Best leave those thoughts alone.' he reminded himself sternly, ignoring the almost painful image of a small half smile and joyful hazel eyes.

He moved to the side of his wardrobe, grabbing his boots before moving to his bed so he could sit down while tying them on his feet.

He quickly sat down on top of the unmade bed, yanking his boots on and quickly tying them.

'Someone should be sent to get me any minute...' he thought, just as there was a knock on his door.

He stood, the nervous feeling he had had earlier making its presence known full-force.

"Come in." he called, proud his voice didn't betray his uncertainty.

'It's probably the messenger, come to fetch me for the rite.'

Slowly, the heavy door opened, and in stepped Arya.

Eragon was stunned for a moment, uncomfortable déjà vu crashing down upon him. He opened his mouth to ask why she, of all people, was here, but then Arya beat him.

"Follow me, Eragon." she requested softly, sounding weary. The blue Rider could only nod, following the elf princess out into the hall and letting the door shut behind them as they paused momentarily.

Arya looked at him for a moment, an unreadable expression on her pretty features, but then turned away.

"Oromis and Svara had already arrived when I left- they have begun painting the runes on the floor. The maids have done an excellent job- the room is spotless." she told him without looking over her shoulder. She began walking.

"I saw Kyrin heading for the room on my way to get you, Eragon. I assume Vanir is there by now as well."

'Last again.' he thought wryly to himself, attempting to find something funny about such a small, insignificant detail. It wasn't as if there had been much to laugh about lately.

"And..."

Her voice trailed off, as if unsure whether or not she should continue. Eragon merely listened, following the elf silently.

"On our way back to the room, I offered to collect Murtagh from his cell."

The bottom dropped out from his stomach, eyes suddenly darting around the too-familiar hallway.

He may have only been down this way three times before, but each time was burned into his memory.

He opened his mouth to say something- protest, possibly, but he couldn't think of a reason convincing enough to force Arya to take him to the room where the ritual would be performed first. He shut his mouth with an almost audible 'snap', looking down at his feet to avoid the pensive look he could feel boring into his brain.

"That's fine." he mumbled.

The rest of the trip took place in silence. When they reached the steps, Eragon hesitated. Arya kept moving without so much as another backwards glance, and before Eragon could make up his mind whether or not to follow, she had returned back up the stairs with the red Rider in tow.

Eragon's breath had caught when he had seen his brother, mostly from surprise. Murtagh was wearing clothes almost exactly like what he had worn before being captured by Galbatorix.

Looking closer, Eragon could see several minor differences.

For one, the clothes were quite obviously new. The thin, shiny leather vest Murtagh wore strapped tightly around his chest wasn't scuffed anywhere, and the metal on the five buckles shone brightly silver. The buckles extended across his entire front, the topmost buckle being drawn across his collarbone and the lowest pulling the vest loosely across Murtagh's hips. The vest was black, just as the shirt was.

The shirt was made from some fine material- probably silk- and had a collar that peeked over the vest. The sleeves were baggy, drawn tightly around Murtagh's wrists so the pale, strong hands of his brother were always unobstructed by the cloth.

The shirt also extended below the vest, but only slightly so that the black leather pants Murtagh wore were visible from thigh on down.

Eragon swallowed.

Murtagh's pants seemed to be just slightly too small, clinging to the red Rider's legs in a way Eragon was certain couldn't be comfortable.

Murtagh wore a pair of boots, just as dark as the rest of his clothing, the material of Murtagh's pants covering the top of the boots around the red Rider's ankle.

The red Rider looked up at him then, hazel meeting chocolate for a long second before Eragon turned away.

Arya moved in front of the two brothers, glancing curiously back at them before looking down the hallway.

"Follow me." she requested again, and began walking.

Eragon was quick to do as asked, uncomfortably aware of his brother as Murtagh fell into step beside him. He could feel Murtagh's stare leveled at him for several more moments until the pale man, too, looked away.

Eragon kept his head down, angled slightly away so he couldn't see his brother even though he could feel the heat from the red Rider's body less than a foot away.

The silence between the three of them was tense and thick, none speaking. None desired to break the awkward silence either, each dwelling on thoughts of what they would be attempting in the next hour or so.

Their path twisted down several corridors- parts of the castle Eragon had been in only briefly, but he didn't bother to look up to admire any of the art. Ever since that conversation with Arya...

'"The decree to recognize love as being love, despite the two people sharing it. It was Orrin's great-great-grandfather that first legalized marriage between any two consenting adults. In thanks, several couples sent their king pieces of their finest art on their wedding day..."'

...the art had never been a distraction after that, and he chanced meeting eyes with his brother if he dared look up from the stone floor.

For reasons he had been trying to ignore, those hazel orbs seemed to draw him in whenever he was close enough to lock eyes with his brother and not exerting all of his willpower to ignore their pull.

He could feel the searching gaze of his brother aimed at him several more times on their walk, but he ignored it.

Eventually, Arya stopped. Eragon almost ran into her before he realized the elf had stopped in front of a door.

She knocked

"Oromis, Svara, we're back." she called, waiting for the muffled 'come in' that came moments later before pushing the heavy wooden door open and walking in.

Eragon quickly followed her, hearing Murtagh enter close behind him. The door closed quietly behind them, and the blue Rider shuffled off to the side so Murtagh could move farther into the room.

The brunette looked around.

The room- built completely of stone- was a fairly large perfect square, empty of any furniture. There were no windows, but the room was easily illuminated by many candles, placed strategically around the room in small recesses in the walls.

The design Eragon remembered Oromis drawing yesterday had been carefully painted on the floor, the last few runes being painted by Oromis. The blue Rider watched for a moment as the old elf dipped his brush into a small wooden bowl, filled with some pitch black liquid that seemed to have the consistency of water, but dried quickly and left a bold color where the brush met the floor.

Kyrin and Vanir were in the far corner of the room, leaning against the walls and talking quietly to each other as they watched Oromis work. Svara was much closer to Eragon, straightening up from where she had been painting the design and looking over towards the door. Her own paint brush and bowl were still n the floor.

"Murtagh, please come over here." she commanded, stepping carefully away from the design she had just finished painting and moving several steps away from it as she motioned him over.

From the corner of one chocolate eye, Eragon could see his brother move over to the elf. He couldn't see Murtagh's face, but he could read the tenseness in Murtagh's shoulders.

He looked away, but he remained very much aware of his brother.

Without thinking too hard about what he was doing, he strained his ears to listen to what Svara was saying quietly to Murtagh.

"I don't know how much Eragon told you about rituals yesterday-" she began, but Murtagh interrupted.

"Eragon hasn't told me anything. I didn't see him at all yesterday." he told her, tone emotionless but for a small trace of bitterness Eragon wasn't sure if he was imagining. "I do know some from when I was held in Uru'baen. I have been healed and given a bath, as there are no other spells cast upon me but the one Galbatorix cast."

Eragon could hear Svara's disapproval when she spoke next.

"I suppose it's a good thing you had some background knowledge, then. You are aware that this will be painful, correct?"

Without being asked, the blue Rider's mind reminded him that the removal of any powerful spell was much more painful than the application of such.

He bit his lip, trying not to think as his ears kept eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Yes." Murtagh replied.

"I must ask you to try not to resist the pain- if you try to fight it, which will be your instinctive reaction, then any magic you have not absorbed by the rite Galbatorix performed will add its strength to the binding keeping you a servant of that king. The less you fight, the less power we have to worry about."

"I understand."

"All we have are a few preparations left. Please remove your vest and shirt so that I may finish preparing you for the ritual."

Eragon's eyes went wide and his head jerked up before he could stop himself. Time seemed to slow down as the blue Rider became hyper-aware of every movement.

He saw Murtagh nod, watching as Murtagh's hands lifted to the front of his vest.

Eragon tried to look away, but the metallic 'chink' as a buckle was undone held his attention. The same sound of metal scraping lightly against metal sounded six more times, and suddenly Murtagh was sliding off the leather vest.

Eragon swallowed as the red Rider handed the vest to Svara, the silver-haired elf taking the clothing item without a word and folding it neatly.

Murtagh's hands lifted again, and unwilling chocolate orbs followed their slow, almost jerky progress down as the pale man undid the buttons holding his shirt closed.

The material went completely slack. With an almost teasing slowness- far too slow for Eragon's liking, yet far too fast to prepare himself and remind himself that any thoughts he was having about the other Rider were wrong- Murtagh's pale shoulder was revealed, the silky cloth sliding over his skin as the red Rider removed his shirt.

The black cloth seemed even darker against the pale flesh of Murtagh's back, Eragon noticed, as the shirt finally came all the way off.

Eragon blinked, getting a hold of himself and looking away as his brother handed the shirt to Svara. The elf seemed surprisingly unaffected by the pale beauty of the flesh before her, neutrally folding the shirt and setting it atop the folded vest on the ground.

The blue Rider gritted his teeth.

Even though his eyes had only seen the pale flesh of his brother's back, his mind could all too easily supply the image of Murtagh's chest, an image he had tried to force away and had never succeeded at forgetting.

'Stop that!' he commanded his imagination mentally, forcefully jerking his mind away from the images his brain was supplying. 'It's wrong- just ignore it. You should have enough willpower to do that at least.'

Commanding all his willpower, he took a deep breath and glanced around the rest of the room.

Arya had moved over by Oromis, who had just finished the design on the floor. They were speaking quietly as well, Oromis with a sad but resigned look. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were discussing.

'Oromis is probably still against us trying this.' Eragon thought, recalling how foolish the old elf believed their attempt to be. 'We have no choice- it's try this, or let him-'

Hazel eyes smiled warmly at him.

'-die, and I can't-'

Angry with himself for the direction his thoughts had taken- yet again!- Eragon almost didn't notice as his eyes strayed back to dangerous territory.

He froze.

Murtagh held his arms out, face to the side as Svara slowly drew her paintbrush across his pale skin. The silver-haired female had obviously collected her bowl of paint as well- a brief glimpse of her other hand revealed the wooden bowl.

Svara was drawing the brush across the red Rider's chest, carefully drawing out runes. The blue Rider was transfixed as she squatted in front of Murtagh, her brush skimming across skin on the red Rider's abdomen.

Feeling eyes on him, his head jerked up.

Hazel met chocolate.

Murtagh's head was craned over his shoulder, eyes boring into Eragon's as Svara worked.

Eragon swallowed, trying to regain some moisture in his suddenly dry mouth.

Vaguely, he heard someone speak.

"Turn around- I have some runes I need to paint on your back."

Too late, he realized it was Svara who spoke, but Eragon was helpless to look away. Murtagh held his gaze calmly and the red Rider rotated his body, keeping his arms out to the sides.

Eragon felt his eyes travel slowly down Murtagh's body, interest caught by the many spots of black paint so recently added.

His eyes first traced the two runes just below his brother's eyes, chocolate orbs scanning down Murtagh's strong neck and passing briefly over the other Rider's collarbone. His eyes ran down Murtagh's chest, tracing the patterns drawn there.

As he did, a hot emotion akin to anger briefly flared within him. It wasn't quite anger, but more... some burning emotion that mixed anger with longing and want.

Jealousy.

Svara had gotten so close to Murtagh- her hands were free to touch, she was close enough to run her fingers over that beautiful pale skin and close enough to feel Murtagh's body heat radiating from the Rider...

Eragon quickly stifled that emotion, shoving it down with the almost overwhelming wave of longing and desire to just walk over and run his own callused hand across that smooth, inviting skin.

He jerked his eyes up to meet Murtagh's again, breath catching for a moment as he saw how those hazel orbs burned with some emotion he couldn't identify.

Those eyes called to him, a siren song he was losing ability to resist.

Eragon forcefully jerked his eyes away from those of his brother, working to keep his breaths from becoming audible as he walked over to Oromis and Arya.

"I'll be in the hall for a moment." he muttered as soon as he was within earshot, not looking up from the floor. Even so, he could feel Arya and Oromis's slightly puzzled gazes as they stared at him.

"We'll begin in just a minute or two, so do not wander far." Arya told him. Eragon nodded, turning quickly and avoiding his brother's stare as he pulled open the door and stepped outside into the hall.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he let out a deep breath he had been unaware he was holding.

He turned and moved to the wall next to the door, leaning his warm forehead against the cool stone.

"Don't think about it." he told himself sternly. "You've managed to ignore it for the past few weeks- you can ignore it now."

He didn't listen to the small voice reminding him that Murtagh had been locked in a cell for those weeks he had 'ignored' it.

He closed his eyes, biting back the jealously that reared up as he recalled how Svara had carefully painted each rune on his brother's skin.

She had been so close... the closeness he wanted, to be able to touch and memorize and admire...

With horror, he realized how far he had fallen.

'I was supposed to block all this out of my head- not invite it in!' he berated himself, trying and failing to banish the enticing image of a strong, bare chest and open arms that were- in his imagination- waiting to receive him.

The door opened next to him. He jerked away from the wall, turning wide eyes to meet those of Vanir.

"Come on, Rider. We're ready to begin." Vanir told him, voice holding none of the usual scathing tone the elf adopted when he spoke to Eragon. The blue Rider nodded, silently stepping away from the wall as he got his emotions under control.

"All right." he replied quietly. He followed Vanir back into the room, ignoring Vanir's questioning and curious look as he walked.

The door closed behind them, the sound suddenly seeming far too loud and final.

'This is it.'

Almost without thinking, he mentally informed Saphira that the ritual would be starting soon.

(I'll need your strength, Saphira. Are you with me?) he asked her.

(Always, Eragon. My power is yours.) she replied.

Slightly comforted, Eragon stepped fully into the room.

TBC…

A/N: Hello! How are we enjoying this so far?

Yes, we finally have the ritual next week! Yay!

Oh, and I actually just noticed something! It's kind of funny, actually, and extremely random, but I just realized that you can draw some parallels between Surda in my fic and Canada in the real world, as well as Alagaesia in my fic and the USA in the real world! Surda and Alagaesia border each other, just as Canada and the USA border each other… The USA and Alagaesia are both totally homophobic, while Surda and Canada allow gay marriage… Alagaesia and the USA both have a total moron running the show… Oops, did I say that out loud? In any case, I just noticed that… Oh well…

Review Replies!

Geek Squared 1307 – Again, sorry about not replying last chapter. I'm so happy you enjoyed it! Also- very happy I'm not overdoing the angst. When people do that, it becomes comical, rather than depressing…

Jo:D – I agree- Eragon and Murtagh are just adorable together! I absolutely LOVE this pairing… glad to see you're enjoying this!

Shadow of Darkness 22 – I always aim to please- so very happy you like it! (And that is kind of funny- you were thinking about it and suddenly it gets updated! That's funny!)

Alsdssg – Cheesy funny is always good- like in the movie, how some parts were meant to be so serious and all, I just couldn't help but laugh! Especially during the final battle: 'And are we together Saphira?' (dramatic pause) 'As ONE!?' and 'Into the sky, to win or die!'. I'm glad you're enjoying the angst and all! 

Brandi N. Jones – I'm so happy you liked the last chapter! I'm also happy you liked how I kept Eragon away from Murtagh- it wouldn't fit with how I'm writing Eragon to toss him and Murtagh together at every opportunity, and while I could have made Eragon go see Murtagh, it just wouldn't have been in character for him! As for the scrolls… genius? Me? Flatterer! But seriously, I'm glad you like this!

Ace03cute – I'm so glad you like this! Don't worry- more EragonxMurtagh interaction coming soon! Promise!

DaTwistedSisters – Yes, Murtagh is awesome! He's my favorite character, hands down. There will be more Murtagh, don't you worry! I'm so happy you're enjoying this so far!

Sirana – I'm so glad it wasn't just completely awful- I have more fun writing the juicy bits, just as you have more fun reading them! (Some chapters just take forever, but all books (one of my friends does refer to this as a novel, since it's so long!) have their slow-paced parts… like the entire first 5/6's of Eldest…)

ginovaef4 – I feel so special now! Seriously- In Dreams is one of the first you check? It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy! But if it helps, I'm the same way. I have tons of ideas for multichapter fanfics, but not the time or attention span to write them. This, I promise, I will finish! Even if it takes me until I'm 20… But yes, I'm swapping back and forth between POVs- and it's actually not because of what C.P. did. I kinda forgot he did that too… but in any case, it's just because 1) the same POV can get VERY boring (I agree with you on that about Eldest- some parts I just wanted to skip entirely! The only reason I sloughed through it was so I could have my facts straight when I wrote this), 2) there is much to tell on both sides of the story- we'd miss out on so much (and this story would be considerably shorter!) if I just kept it to one person's POV, and 3) After writing the first chapter from Eragon's POV, and then the second from Murtagh's, it just made no sense to stick entirely to one POV, and it can get pretty confusing if you switch back and forth within a chapter. I hate football too- I hate most sports, and have no clue why anyone would want to sit on their lazy ass and watch other people play games all day- but I saw Friday Night Lights anyway as well! I can remember the plotline vaguely, know the names of two or three of the main characters, and know scenes by whether or not Don Billingsley (a.k.a. Garrett Hedlund, a.k.a. the hottest man alive!) was in them. I loved Four Brother as well- one of my all time favorite movies! (Does it make me weird that- although Jack was my favorite character- my favorite scene is the one where Jack dies?) Glad you're enjoying this!

Victory by grace – Glad you like it! I try! You have some pretty interesting theroies… but I already do have something of a plan in place. I'm always excited to hear new ideas and comments though- makes me smile when I realize someone else actually cares enough about In Dreams to think up theroies on what character would be best suited to which role… in any case, please continue to enjoy and read!

XdragonRiderx – I can't stand it when someone doesn't update for a year- I always make sure to update once a week, assuming I have enough chapters stored up to allow it. After I haven't updated something for a year, the fic is basically dead. So 50 chapters sounds good? (laughs) A lot of people seem to like the idea of this being a long story- it'll be a monster, I know that much! So happy you like it!

Chiri – Sure! I don't mind! I've actually found that the more effort I put into this, the easier it is to do so and the better I become at writing. (And I just keep looking back at all I've written so far, rather than how much I have left to go. When I look at how much I have unwritten for this, I want to go fetal in a corner… just kidding!) And don't worry- I'll keep going! I will not give up until I finish this story! (I like this too much to leave it unfinished, though I suspect the next Eragon movie (or at least the next book) will probably come out before I finish this…)

Gloria Monday – You recommended this to one of your friends? You don't know how happy that makes me! Whenever I hear that someone besides myself enjoyed one of my stories enough to tell their friends, it always makes me smile and go all hyper! But I do hope you enjoy the rest of the story- and I'm sure you're not too boring to appreciate a story! I know most of the last few chapters haven't had much action going on, but they were necessary. Hopefully the next few will be more exciting!

Ore no Naruto – I hope you will enjoy Chapter 8! As I said, slash really begins in that chapter, and it's more prominent in later chapters. But yes, the alerts don't seem to be working properly- I don't think that anyone (or at least, most of the readers) received an update alert. I didn't receive an alert (I usually get one when I update my stories, but I didn't get anything after uploading the previous chapter), so I was just a BIT peeved with the site for doing this to me… I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

EmpyrealFantasy – Nope- alerts haven't been working at all. I was SO mad when I realized they weren't- it always annoys me to no end, especially since I have to go to the actual site to check for reviews (and oftentimes can't read new reviews- I have to wait for hours until they appear on the site for everyone to view to read them!) and my regular readers don't find out about the new chapter for ages! I hate crossovers too- I never read them if I can help it, but I suppose I'll go there eventually, if I find a crossover that I think could work. I mean, I never used to read incest either! But yay- I can't wait to read the next chapter of Clandestine! You're doing wonderfully with it! And getting them together in 5-10 isn't too quickly, I don't think… (if we don't look at each part of my chapters as separate chapters, I'm getting them together in 8-10!) But yes, that last chapter wasn't super interesting, but necessary all the same. (I just borrowed ideas from FullMetal Alchemist, other magic I've read about, Wicca, and more. I have fun making things like that up!) And I hope you do enjoy the slash! (By my definition, it won't be super super heavy, but slash becomes a much bigger part of the story later on. At the moment, you can't exactly ignore it, but it's not the forefront of the story. It's at about 4 or 5 on the Focus Meter, on a scale of 1-10, 1 being the most focused. Later, it goes up to 1 or 2. I hope no one wants to kill me since I don't just have slash slash slash… but I like my story!) Hope you continue to enjoy this!

ShamefulDesire – Thanks! I try! I'm glad you like it so far- more slashiness is well on the way! I hope you continue enjoying this!

Starsage - I'm a fan of action too- and at the current stage of planning, I do believe I have 3-4 more battle scenes (or at least fights!) planned for later chapters! Everyone seems to like the battle scenes I write, so I had this great idea… but we'll have to wait until later to see! Sorry, I know I'm being kind of vague, but I don't want to give out many spoilers!

Thebrunetteditz – I'm so happy you like it! Yes, I've listened to a song and thought up great ideas for pairings based off that song… Good luck with writing it! Everyone knows we need more MxE in the world! (In fact, I'm working on a songfic myself as well, at least at the moment. By the time I post this chapter, I may have already finished it! It's a songfic to Reliant K's 'Who I Am Hates Who I've Been', and is MurtaghxEragon slash! Yay!)

Mahie – Thanks! I'm glad you like it and- yes, even though this fic is sadly slashless so far- are so patient! There will be slash later, at least…? We'll get to it, I promise! I can't very well keep them apart forever, I'm too much of a fan of happy endings! (For me, happy endings have a built-in requirement for my favorite pairing to be together in the end.) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Missmurder83 – Thanks! I try! A lot of people have commented and said they enjoyed the dreams- I know there are fewer as of late, but it couldn't be helped. They should keep popping up, but definitely to a lesser extent than in the first few chapters, unfortunately. In any case, I hope you continue to enjoy this. (And if you've found good EraMur slash, could you recommend a fic to me? There's not enough slash in this fandom, and I've run out of reading material! (sad face) If you've found something good, please let me know! Thanks!)


	17. Rite

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

**In Dreams VII, Part E**

Eragon took a deep breath as he moved towards the design.

He could see the elves- excluding Vanir, who was moving to the far side of the room, and Oromis, standing off to the side- already standing inside their respective rune circles. Arya stood closest to him, Kyrin directly across from the elf princess. Vanir had reached the empty circle next to Kyrin, and now stood inside of it. Svara occupied the circle between Vanir and Arya, leaving only once spot open.

Eragon turned to take the final point of the star, glancing only once at the center of the pentagram.

Murtagh stood inside the pentagon at the center, facing Eragon's point of the star.

The blue Rider stepped into the center of his runic circle before lifting his head up firmly, taking a deep breath and letting it out to calm himself down some.

Oromis cleared his throat.

"You all know how to ritual works. I have nothing more to say, except I hope to see you all alive again." Oromis told them all in the almost eerie quiet of the room. The old elf inclined his head slightly towards them all, then turned for the door.

Eragon's eyes followed his mentor as Oromis opened the heavy door, stepping outside the room.

"I will wait here." The words came as the door shut, complete silence falling in the room.

"Let us begin." Svara whispered in the quiet. "On my count- Three..."

Eragon could hear the others shifting nervously.

(It's starting, Saphira.)

"Two..."

The blue Rider sucked in a breath.

(I am ready, Eragon.)

"One."

The blue Rider sighed as he felt his connection with his dragon open fully, their bond connecting them as her power began to flow towards him.

"Now."

He opened his mouth, words coming easily to him.

"Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr." he intoned, voice echoing along with the words of his fellow magicians in the ritual with him. At the words, Eragon could feel a small drawing sensation on his magic, not only pulling wisps of his own sapphire-colored power from him, but drawing Saphira's magic through him as well.

It was strange- unlike ordinary magic- and the odd sensation almost threw Eragon off timing as the chant was repeated.

"Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr."

The drawing sensation grew a thousandfold. Eragon could feel his power being drained at an alarming rate- and the most disconcerting part was that it felt more like his magic had vanished than was being used.

A glow at his feet caught his attention.

He looked down, mouth moving with the others as he chanted.

"Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr."

The runes surrounding him were glowing, the deep blue color growing brighter as it spread. The more they chanted- as they repeated the words again- the brighter the glow became and the more runes lit up.

Slowly- almost excruciatingly slow, Eragon watched as the larger design began glowing. Sapphire blue lit the runes and point of the star Eragon stood at.

Out of the corner of his eye- as they chanted again- Eragon could see the point Arya stood at glow a gorgeous lilac shade. Svara's area of the design was a cool mint green Eragon recognized from a few days ago, but he had little time to dwell on it as the chant came again. Kyrin's magic was dark brown, the color of bark after a long rain. Vanir's was a determined orange, the same shade of autumn leaves turning colors in the fall.

Transfixed, Eragon watched as the blue of his magic spread to meet the lilac and bark brown shades on each side, glow suddenly intensifying.

They spoke the words again.

The magic crept up towards the center of the pentagram, colors swirling together as they approached Murtagh's feet.

'This isn't that bad.' Eragon thought, watching as the magic spread farther, pouring along the symbols at the center.

Just a few more moments, and the entire symbol would be lit by the brilliant colors of their magic.

The chant repeated, Eragon's mouth now almost on automatic as he grew used to repeating the words.

The magic had lit the entire design on the ground, and was still spreading. Unthinkingly, Eragon's eyes followed the glow of magic as runes on Murtagh's body began to light up.

Chocolate eyes traced the rune across Murtagh's taut stomach, transfixed as the rune began to glow blue. Eragon's gaze followed the path of the magic upwards, watching as the symbols farther up on his brother's chest began glowing with the power of the other magicians.

Unable to help himself, his eyes lingered for perhaps longer than they should have on Murtagh's body. He could see the runes on the red Rider's arms lighting up, but his focus was glued to his brother's chest.

At least, until the magic spread even higher.

Eragon followed the progress of the magic, passed Murtagh's collarbone, his neck, firm jaw, lips…

His eyes lingered, but the magic soon recaptured his complete focus, as the two runes just under Murtagh's eyes lit up.

Fascinated, Eragon stared. Slowly, however, his eyes were drawn up just a little bit more to meet deep hazel eyes.

The blue Rider's breath caught, hardly aware of his mouth moving as he chanted with the other magicians again. Murtagh's eyes seemed to draw him in, the light glow of the magic spreading up to completely cover Murtagh's body. Eragon's eyes could no longer follow its progress, however, caught by endless hazel orbs that seemed to burn as Murtagh stared back.

He was so entranced, he missed the moment when the magic had finished covering his brother's body. He didn't miss the fact for long.

The drawing sensation on his magic suddenly intensified exponentially, now pulling his magic forcefully from his body and brutally yanking Saphira's power along the connection.

Eragon almost stumbled forward with the power of it, squeezing his eyes shut as his power raced from his body, gushing into the circle at his feet and creating a light bright enough for him to see through his closed eyelids.

The sensation was painful, and as Eragon repeated the words again it only got worse.

Then came the first cry of pain.

Eragon forced his eyes open; trying to find the source of the sound, as it wasn't from his own throat that sound had issued.

Arya's eyes were tightly closed, and her body tense. With shock, Eragon realized she was actually glowing the lilac shade of her power. She seemed to be a pillar of light purple energy, but Eragon could see- he wasn't entirely certain how- her magic and strength heading out of her body and into the design. The ritual design was glowing ever brighter, shades mixing and beginning to shine white with a brightness that hurt to look at.

Svara was glowing green, her face also contorted in pain as the ritual drained her magic. Still, her voice was strong as they chanted together again.

"Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr!"

Their voices rose in volume, the sucking sensation on their magic and physical strength increasing painfully again.

It was as if someone had attached a thousand tiny 'straws' to Eragon's body and his magic was being sucked through those areas, his body's strength following.

His eyes- still trying to locate the source of that first cry of pain- jerked over to Vanir, the elf glowing orange, brow furrowed, but mouth tightly clasped. Kyrin was much the same, but for the fact he was glowing dark brown.

Eragon's eyes darted to the middle, almost forgetting to chant as shock flooded his system.

Murtagh's eyes were tightly shut, magic running over his body and even right through it, jerking the red Rider just slightly forward and backwards, side to side.

As he watched- chanting again- a black cloud of energy seemed to explode from Murtagh's body, accompanied by a pained cry from the red Rider. The black cloud shoved at the multihued magic covering Murtagh's skin, covering the pale flesh with what looked almost like black oil as the magic flowed.

As the black magic touched the multicolored magic of the ritual, more pain shot through Eragon.

He gasped, choking as burning pain cut through his flesh. It felt as if someone had just cut deeply into his body with a knife, and he almost cried out as the sensation cut through him again, stabbing deeper and harder.

(Eragon!)

He could hear Saphira's concerned cry as more magic poured through him and into the ritual, but he ignored it. All he could feel was the stabbing pain as he gasped out the chant again.

He heard a loud, feminine cry of pain. His eyes shot open- he couldn't recall closing them- and saw Svara fall to her knees, clutching her chest. Her eyes were tightly shut, a single tear leaking from the corner of one as evident pain racked her body.

'No matter what happens, keep chanting.'

Eragon repeated the chant, hands tightening into fists and squeezing so hard his knuckles turned white as pain slashed through him again, leaving hellfire flares throughout his body.

He could hear Svara scream again, but he vaguely noted that she had chanted with them.

The next sound he heard was that of a man- he didn't need to look to know it was Vanir. The elf groaned in pain, arm across his body and pressing into his shoulder, with the other hand pressed to his head.

Eragon's eyes jerked to the center of the circle again, yelling out the chant as the ritual pulled stronger and faster as his strength, trying to push waves of his power at the black cloud of pure magic energy covering Murtagh.

He glared at it, efforts seemingly futile as the black cloud swelled.

"Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr!" He shouted, feeling the others shout with him. Their power surged, their many-colored wave of magic cresting over Murtagh and crashing down around the red Rider, still barely visible through the thick haze of what had to be Galbatorix's magic.

Murtagh cried out in pain, face screwed into an expression of agony. Murtagh was biting his lip, blood trickling down at the side of his mouth where the canine tooth had punctured skin.

The chant sounded again, echoing strangely in the room.

Eragon couldn't keep track of the sounds of pain anymore- between the horrible, brutal tug of the ritual on their power and the black magic attacking them in return, it was impossible to hold back cries.

(Eragon!)

Eragon ignored Saphira again, hearing a loud thud as Kyrin fell to his knees on his left, crying out almost deafeningly loud.

The blue Rider swayed on his feet, feeling light headed as magic rushed from his body.

He stumbled, almost stepping out of his circle as he cried out the words of the chant.

By sheer force of will, he kept his eyes open and saw Arya sway on her feet, hands pressed to her temples as they chanted, trying to drive away the pain.

Eragon turned his focus back to the center of the pentagram, anger slowly building.

'How dare he... Galbatorix...' Eragon's brown eyes narrowed and he glared, anger pushing through him to explode from his body in a large wave of blue magic that left him feeling almost impossibly drained.

The blue wave of magic met and mixed with the power the other elves were forcing out, mixing into a huge globe of power and crashing against the wave of black power.

The magic warred, Eragon gasping for breath as the black power pushed forward, crying out in pain as knives of flame ran through him again and again. Murtagh, too, cried out in pain, body spasming as he fell to the ground.

Hopelessly, Eragon watched as the black power slowly overtook theirs, moving slowly through the ritual design on the floor towards the elves and Rider.

'We're going to lose.' Eragon thought in horror, pain almost overwhelming his senses as he watched the blackness slowly spread.

Faces began flashing in his mind- all those in the Varden, all those in Surda, everyone who would now never have a chance since Eragon made one stupid mistake.

'It was hopeless from the beginning.'

The dark power was now extending into the arms of the five-pointed star, slowly creeping towards the still chanting magicians. As it drew closer, the pain built and built until his own screaming was all that rang in Eragon's ears.

He wanted to fall to the ground and just let the black magic kill him, wanted to just give up, but he couldn't...

'More power... I just need a little more power, and then maybe...'

The black power drew nearer.

'I'm going to die.'

As the dark magic drew almost to his runic circle- somehow, Eragon knew once the power had completely overtaken his own that would be the end- the brunette looked towards the center.

Murtagh's face- as much pain as the other was in- was what he wanted to take with him when he died.

The red Rider's mouth was open, screams issuing from it as he thrashed on the ground, but Eragon couldn't hear any of it. Everything seemed to have gone quiet, he felt so detached from his body and the physical realm.

'I tried...' he thought, throat closing up as he watched his brother's body writhe.

(Rider Eragon.)

Vaguely, he realized someone was talking to him. The deep, powerful voice wasn't one he recognized, however, but the means of communication...

(Saphira?) he asked, confused. It hadn't sounded like her at all- in fact, the voice speaking was distinctly masculine...

The voice snorted at him.

(No. You know me. Take my power, little human. Use it.)

With the words, Eragon could feel a new 'pathway'- it was the only way to describe the sudden connection- open. Power rushed through the tunnel connecting him to the strange voice, blood red magic that burned with a comforting warmth as it revitalized him and shot through his body.

Seconds later came the pain.

Eragon dropped to the floor with a scream, thousands of tiny hooks hotter than lava and colder than ice ripping through him. Somehow he felt himself repeat the chant, though he could scarcely speak anymore but for screaming.

The hooks seemed to draw pieces of his flesh away, and for several minutes all Eragon could feel was the pain before realizing this hurt didn't belong to him.

The connection he had forged with that voice had connected him to whoever was feeling this.

He craned his neck, body spasming uncontrolably as his eyes focused.

Hazel eyes met his.

The eye contact sent another burst of the warm, red magic through his body.

Eragon found the strength to repeat the chant.

"Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr." His voice was hoarse, but he could feel the power behind his words swell even as the incredible pain of the hooks running through his body persisted.

Drifting in and out of coherency, Eragon yelled the chant as loud as he could muster, using shaking arms to push himself up to his knees. Off balance, he nearly fell as he pushed himself back up to his feet.

He glanced down at himself.

Half of him glowed blue. The other half was blood red. Where the two magics met, there was a dark purple glow, but that mattered little as waves of pain radiated across the blood red connection.

Eragon slowly lifted his eyes to the ritual design, body shaking as he ignored the pain.

The red was pushing back the black magic, but so slowly.

(You have more power than that. Use me!)

The voice was speaking to him again, tone angry and demanding, but also worried and protective.

'Protect... protect who?'

Even though he wondered about the voice's identity, Eragon opened their connection wider as he felt more magic scream through it. The power hit him hard, making him gasp and stumble before he could call out the chant again.

His head swimming, Eragon lifted his eyes to meet Murtagh's.

Somehow, in the red Rider's jerky spasms of pain, their eyes met for a second time.

Eragon felt his old anger boil back over, the hot flames of his anger rising and rising, spurred on by the voice giving him the blood red magic to use to save...

'Murtagh.'

He could barely feel his face twisting into an expression of hate as he thought about all that Galbatorix had done- a hate not completely his own, but Eragon didn't care.

He had a score to settle with that king, and as his anger fueled the borrowed magic, he cried out the chant again.

"Losna du vanyali sem huildar Murtagh-finiarel a trudvr en Galbatorix Konungr!"

The red magic screamed through his body, burning as it crashed to the floor and along the design. The black magic was blasted from the runes, suddenly given only a small space around Murtagh's thrashing body. The dark power began to fight back, but Eragon was convinced he was stronger.

Even as pain begged him to give in and darkness swam at the edge of his vision, even as dizziness threatened to bring him back to the ground, the blue Rider called out the chant one last time, feeling voices connected and yet separate from him chant with him.

"Losna!"

The ritual design glowed brighter and the blackness swelled, both readying all their power for one final strike.

"Du vanyali sem!"

Eragon could feel the words tear themselves from his throat.

"Huildar Murtagh-finiarel!"

Pain was overwhelming him now- he stumbled back slightly, forcing himself to keep his eyes open even though it didn't matter if he did or not.

He could see the elves staring at him, even as they, too, chanted.

"A trudvr en!"

Unconsciousness beckoned him, but Eragon shoved away the oblivion as he shouted the final words.

"Galbatorix Konungr!"

The last of his power screamed from his body. Completely drained, Eragon fell, eyes struggling to stay open as a combination of pain severe enough to cause unconsciousness and exhaustion warred inside his battered body.

He could see the red power he had borrowed crash through the black power of Galbatorix, slamming into Murtagh.

As the red Rider's back arched against the stone floor, mouth opening in a wordless scream of hurt, Eragon's eyes shut.

Another wave of pain laced through him as he fell unconscious on the stone floor.

(Thank you, little one.)

It was the voice who spoke, but Eragon could figure out who it was that had helped him now.

(Thorn...)

The power he had used- the connection he had established- had been Thorn's. He had been connected to his brother through the ruby dragon, however fleetingly.

As he blacked out, he could feel that connection crumble, the temporary bridge broken as the ritual ended.

TBC…

A/N: Sorry – not too good at rituals! Hopefully it was just as good as the other chapters!

Whew! Well, FINALLY Chapter 7 is over! Chapter 8 is coming next, and now the slash really starts for all of you who have been waiting so patiently! Thanks a ton!

Review Replies!

Schnoodle – Thanks! I hope you feel better soon- or perhaps by the time of this posting, you're already right as rain? I sure hope so- being sick is never fun!

Sakura evil twin of Sango – Thanks! Was this soon enough?

Brandi N. Jones – A drool cup? Surely you flatter me! I try- but I do admit to slipping in some things purely for the drool-worthiness of the image! Half of this story is basically fanservice for myself… And who DOESN'T want to 'draw runes' on Murtagh? (And you'd be surprised at how many people (a.k.a. some of my friends who don't know any better) don't think Garrett is all that hot. They give him a grudging 'cute', but that's it!) I feel sorry for your roommate, if you really did squeal when you saw that I updated- and here's where I must admit to doing the same thing while watching movies and see my favorite actor (cough) Garrett Hedlund (cough) come on screen! My legs kick up and down, I hum, I squeal, I get up and dance around… I wonder if that's why my sister laughs at me when we watch movies… In any case, so glad you liked it! I'll do my best to keep the story just as entertaining!

Jo:D – I'm so glad you like it- and you're so enthusiastic too! Always good! I hope you continue to enjoy this- I'll certainly be doing my best to keep it good!

Ginovaef4 – UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension) is so much FUN to play with! It makes a story that much sweeter and hotter, I think. So Arya is actually likeable here? I tried, but since she has no real personality in the books I was kind of inventing her from the vague hints Paolini gave us. I usually can't hate the characters in a show unless they're truly evil- unfortunately, my definition of evil doesn't include coming between and generally being an obstacle towards a relationship of two smexy male characters. And I would like to jump into the action, but patience can sometimes have a big payoff. (Besides, this makes the scenes they do interact in so much more sweet!) I'm glad you like the POV switching- as for the story you mentioned, I suggest sticking with something you know or feel strongly about. It gives the story a more realistic feel, you see? Also, what I sometimes do (a few fanfics were born this way!) is think of something that would be so totally hot and just drop dead sexy, like a scene or an image. I'd take that scene, and figure out a way to make it happen. (I wrote a fanfic for this one video game called Kingdom Hearts a while back. My favorite character in KH is a guy named Riku, mostly because I think he's hot. My mind hit upon the image of Riku with silver-white wings one day, and BOOM! A fanfic was born, all because I wanted to see Riku with wings.) If you already have the main parts outlined, what I suggest is filling those in with more basic details, but still have it be a general outline. For example, if you have something like 'Finds dragon and fight. Save princess. Happy Ever After.', then expand that a bit more to be something like 'Goes through forest. Finds castle. Enters. Finds dragon. Banter, then dragon attacks. Fight. Princess escapes tower and sees fighting. Win. Princess runs to knight. Hug. Confessions of undying love. Ride off into sunset. Happy Ever After.' Same basic ideas, but the second outline was more detailed in terms of what you wanted to do. Still a very basic outline- each sentence fragment in the outline would be a paragraph or three in an actual story, but this way it's easier to try and conquer those little bullet points than tackle larger bullet points… I hope some of that made sense! As for Four Brothers, oddly enough my favorite scene was the one where Jack dies, despite him being my favorite… (stop me if I've said this stuff before, but I have a terrible memory for things like this!) I'm planning on seeing Georgia Rule as well, and Death Sentence when it comes out (that movie's slated for release later in August) and he's the only reason I even considered seeing those two movies. Lucky you- only two and a half week left? I have 26 days- I get to stay in school until June 5. Oh goody… at least when it's summer, I'll have more time to write! Whoa, that was a long reply…

Ore no Naruto – Romance is coming, don'tcha worry! I love being romantic, though I doubt a single kid at my school would believe it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Thebrunetteditz – You jammed your foot? Ouch- I know that hurts! Out of curiosity, what style of karate do you study? I'm in the martial arts myself, and have been for… I wanna say 7-8 years? Anyway, I've been studying for nearly a decade. Congrats, though, on turning 20! Happy birthday! (And about the cliffhanger- if you thought THIS was bad, wait until you see 8B… even I feel a bit guilty about that one…)

Riku Love – If it helps, I'm mad at this WONDERFUL site as well. I hate it when they do that to me… But I'm glad you like it! I always try to make the scenes intense and detailed enough so you can picture it in your mind. That always makes for the best stories! I could never kill everyone off, though- too much of a fan of happy stories! Rarely do I write a story in which everyone dies… I know I'd cry!

EmpyrealFantasy – I love you too! Tension can be a whole lot more entertaining than actual action- too easy to play around with them when they have so much wonderful tension… And aw- you make me feel so special! Great stories and slash always go so well together, though this is probably my first attempt at something of this magnitude… I know it's hard to write those scenes where you simply set something up, but they're important. I have to force myself through some chapters, mostly because it's all setup information and there's not too much action. In any case, supremely glad you like it! (I'll be looking for more chapters of 'Clandestine' too- and I can not tell you how honored I am that you mentioned me in your author's note at the end of chapter 1! Go me!) Much love! (huggles)

Sirana – So glad you're enjoying it! And yes, since you're curious, Murtagh will be the more dominant of their relationship. I see most relationships as being equal, but if I had to pick one dominant and one submissive, it'd definitely be Murtagh as dominant. I agree with you- usually, stories in which the person with more age, height, build, dominant tendencies, etc. is the submissive one in the relationship… well, most of the time I just don't see it working. I hope you continue to enjoy this! I'll do my best and work hard!

Ashyx – Too true- and Eragon makes me want to laugh sometimes too, even though I'm the one writing him! I hope this wasn't a letdown for you!

FangedWriter – 50 chapters may not sound long, but that will make this easily the longest fanfic I have ever written. Especially when we figure that each chapter it about 10 pages, making this story about 500 pages long- and I doubt I'll ever ask my friend again why he calls this a 'novel'. I hope Murtagh DOES get more screen time- he totally deserves it! Yes- much more slash to come soon!

XDragonRiderx – Thanks! I love ExM interaction myself- and I'm so happy we'll be seeing more of it in chapters to come! I only heard about homosexual couples being able to marry in Canada through a reviewer of another fic of mine- she told me I should have just sent the two men I was writing about to Canada, since gay marriage was legal! In any case, I hope you enjoyed!

Revenge is oh so sweet – Thanks! I try! I'm glad you like the descriptions- I think they make things a lot easier to visualize, yes? And I'm more than happy to provide an 'awesome read' to anyone willing to read ExM! 

Peachie Bunni – I know- I'm just so mean to the poor blue Rider, aren't I? Ah well- it's fun! So you like the eyes? I always find that eyes are very powerful- it's also how I usually refer to people, by their eye color. In stories, anyway…

Caelistes – Thanks! A lot of people seem to have a desire to bop Eragon over the head- including me, at times! True- denial probably can't be good for him! I just have so much fun with denial, though… I hope you enjoy the rest of this story!

Xokobio – You don't need to apologize! I'm more than happy enough you're reading the story! I understand that people can be busy- I am busy too, sometimes! I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Black Juju – I hope the ritual was worth it! I tried, but I'm not sure how well I did… I'm honored that you have so much faith in me though! I hope you continue to enjoy this, and that I'll never disappoint you! Don't worry about rushing me- feel free to say 'update soon' to your heart's content! I always post when I feel the need to, regardless of how many people ask me to update soon. I figure a week qualifies as soon, so no problems there!

Disturbedfreak101 – I'm glad you like it! I'll be more than happy to check out your friend's story (time permitting), but I'll need the penname or the story title first. I'm always happy to try and help!

DaTwistedSisters – Was this quick enough? I hope so! Don't worry- I promised slash in Chapter 8, correct? In Chapter 8, I think the slash really starts. (There's lots in Chapter 10, if it helps!) I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Izzers – Thanks! No, it's not wrong for you to say that you want the slash to pick up at all- a lot of people are asking about that. I can assure you- with certainty- that the slash picks up within my next 5 posts. In Chapter 8, let's just say I was having some fun! I hope you'll continue enjoying this!

Shadow of Darkness 22 – Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! I'm also happy you did a happy dance- I always do a little dance when something good happens to me, despite the fact that I can't dance to save my life. Anyway, reading Eragon fanfics made you want to read the books? I've heard from a couple people that they only picked up the books after reading a good fanfic! I hope you did enjoy the ritual and it wasn't too much of a letdown!

aTtItUdE iS eVeRyThInG – First things first- I seriously love the name! So true! But on a more serious note- your review made me blush! Well, and giggle like a schoolgirl, but that's beside the point! I'm honored you like this so much! I try! As for the title… me, a queen? Go me! I'll never win Prom Queen, but this is SO much better! Murtagh plushies are an awesome prize! (huggles Murtagh plushies!) I hope this update was soon enough for you!

Ashyx – Sorry- the chapter just ended up being too long to combine 7D and 7E! I would have, but so many things kept popping up… I never thought 7 would go on so long! Hopefully this was worth the wait!

Starsage – Thanks! As a matter of fact, I believe I have read 'Chained to You'. Any particular reason you're asking? (curious)

October Morning – That's all right! Don't apologize- alerts weren't working at all for that week! (I was none too pleased with the site, but at least everything is working now!) Didja have fun in Newport? You always manage to make me feel so special- really, checking your email every day?(I hope you and your mother had fun- and I agree, the site can be a bit frustrating, but when it's working it's wonderful!) As for us being a perfect pair- have to say I agree! We'll need to find someone to make sure our heads don't swell too much! Don't worry about reading other review replies- I'm sure other people do it too. I doubt anyone wants to tar and feather you, if it's any consolation! Rambling isn't a problem unique to you- I think lots of people (including me!) have the same problem! None of my friends had Four Brothers either, but at that point (I had known about it for about a month) I was crazy with wanting to watch it and spent my own money to rent it. I'm a big time penny pincher (I kneel down in the middle of hallways at school to pick up anything bigger than a penny. Anything less than a dollar I keep, but at a dollar bill or higher I turn it in.) so it was a huge deal for me. But I'm honored- really, getting all bummed just because I have a new story you can't read since you don't know the canon… Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy! So glad you liked 7C- I hope you enjoyed this as well! (Huggles!)

Alsdssg – It's okay! I rarely have any patience to speak of either! I hope this was good enough for you! Did you have fun in Canada?


	18. Freedom

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Shauna! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions.

Note! Just so we all know- I only have one more chapter fully written after this, so it may be a week or two before I get 8C out. 8B will be out on time. (If it's any consolation, the school year is almost up and I have all of summer to dedicate to finishing this story!)

Also, I'm going to Anime Central this weekend! (For those of you who aren't anime/manga fans, ACEN is an anime convention in the Midwest. It's tons of fun!) I'm just all hyper, because I FINALLY got some decent temporary hair dye for my character, since I'll be crossplaying as Riku from Kingdom Hearts 2. (He has silver hair- it's REALLY hard to dye dark brown hair silver temporarily. Mom looked scandalized when I asked if I could bleach my hair…)

One more thing! I am shocked and ecstatic at the sheer NUMBER of reviews I got last chapter! I didn't know WHAT to think when I saw that the previous chapter had almost 40 reviews! My jaw just kind of dropped and I was rendered speechless for a good 10 minutes while that sunk in. I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed and let everyone know how touched I am that you all seem to enjoy this so much!

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

In Dreams VIII, Part A

Hazel eyes slowly blinked open, their owner not moving for many minutes as he tried to recall what had transpired.

He stared at the stone ceiling, memories slowly coming back- first in a trickle, than in a flood.

'The ritual...'

He could recall the magic circling him, attacking him and attempting to rip the spell from his body. Galbatorix's magic inside of him had fought back, the black energy drawing out his own.

Murtagh shuddered as he recalled how his power- his own magic!- had been forced to fight the magic of the ritual. He had been unable to prevent most of his energy from being used against the ritual designed to free him.

He could remember the intense pain he had felt; pain both mental and physical. His body was hurt, there was no doubt about that. If he concentrated hard on the memory, he was certain he'd be able to recreate the sensation of hundreds of red hot-hooks raking through his flesh over and over again.

The physical pain, however, was secondary to the crushing loss of hope he had experienced as he had watched the Varden's magic users fail while he himself was helpless to assist them.

They had been losing, he didn't doubt that. Then something had changed.

Large brown eyes had stared at him, and then suddenly Eragon had poured more magic into the ritual. Much more than Murtagh thought possible for one person to hold, but when he thought harder about it...

Eragon's magic towards the end had been red- and not just any shade. Murtagh could feel the familiarity of that magic- it belonged to Thorn, and since the ruby dragon belonged to the red Rider, Eragon had been using Murtagh's magic, what little the red Rider had been able to cling to.

That connection he had felt at the end- even through waves of pain, he could still recall the bond he had felt. He hadn't noticed it then, but for a few minutes at the end of the ritual- just before he was freed- there had been a buffer, taking some of the pain, lessening the hurt enough for Murtagh to hold on.

That buffer, that protector... it had been Eragon.

Murtagh sat up, ignoring the protests of his sore muscles as he briefly glanced around and wiped his face of the blood now drying from where he had bit through his lip.

The design for the ritual seemed to have disappeared. The red Rider glanced down at himself.

Not a single drop of the cold paint remained, even though he knew Svara had drawn many runes on his flesh not too long ago.

'How long have I been unconscious?' he wondered. He began to push himself to his feet, but his arms shook with the strain and his legs seemed to have turned to jelly. He stopped, glancing around the rest of the room.

He was shocked at the sight that greeted him.

He hadn't glanced more than a foot or two to each side when he had first glanced up, but- as he scanned the rest of the room- now he noticed that he wasn't alone. The magicians- at least the elves, as he could see Vanir and Svara in front of him, and Kyrin and Arya to each side- had fallen to the ground, almost completely still. Murtagh could see the rise and fall of each elves chest- they had apparently fallen unconscious, mostly likely from the strain of the ritual.

And if they were unconscious, then...

Murtagh jerked his body around, ignoring the protests it gave as he hurriedly spun.

Eragon lay on the ground, but from where the red Rider sat he couldn't tell if his brother was breathing. Eragon's face was turned to the side, facing away from Murtagh.

A quick dose of fear shot through his blood, spurring him to action. Knowing his legs wouldn't support him, he instead crawled over to the blue Rider, hazel eyes locked on his brother's chest and searching for even the barest glimpse of movement.

It took scarcely a minute of moving stiff muscles, but that minute felt all too long to Murtagh. He moved to a kneeling position next to Eragon's still body, leaning over his brother and propping himself up with one arm.

Gently- as careful as his shaking hands and concern allowed him to be- he cupped his brother's cheek and tilted Eragon's face towards him.

Eragon's eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as- Murtagh breathed a sigh of relief, eyes softening and tension leaving his body- the blue Rider breathed in and out. Until that point, the red Rider hadn't been aware of just how rigid his body had been, or how the breath he had been unaware he was holding was beginning to burn his lungs…

Hazel eyes lingered on Eragon's lips, hand moving from the other Rider's chin. Murtagh ran his thumb lightly over Eragon's bottom lip, feeling the slightly chapped skin beneath his sensitive fingertips. His hand trailed down farther, coming to rest on the blue Rider's chest as he leaned just a little bit closer, not consciously realizing he was moving.

Lips a bare inch from those of his brother, he stopped. He was close enough to feel the lightest puffs of air as Eragon exhaled, the blue Rider's slightly open mouth practically screaming an invitation.

It was a perfect opportunity.

Still, Murtagh hesitated, hazel eyes scanning his brother's face again as desire warred with the guilt he knew he'd feel if he took advantage of Eragon while he was unconscious.

Just because he wanted nothing more than to claim those lips right then and there did not make it right, but he was loathe to pull away just yet. He wanted to linger there just a moment more, drink in his brother's presence even as the proximity teased him and tested his resolve.

Yet, he knew, the more he lingered, the more likely he would give into his desires. Uncertain whether to stay or back away, he held perfectly still as his mind struggled to make the right choice.

The decision was taken from him. He heard a sound behind him- the rustle of cloth, and a low, pained moan. Guiltily, he jerked away from Eragon, turning to see which of the elves had awoken.

Arya was slowly pushing herself to a sitting position, one elegant hand pressed to her forehead. The red Rider saw her eyes drop to his hand- which was still very much on Eragon's chest- before her eyes jerked up to meet his.

Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, but then she dropped her gaze. Her attention turned to his close proximity to Eragon, taking in yet again the hand he hadn't removed from his brother's body and how close he was kneeling to the blue Rider.

Her eyes lifted again, locking with his. He met her thoughtful stare coolly.

Murtagh could see Arya open her mouth to speak for the second time, but the sound of another elf waking cut her off before she had even begun.

The red Rider shifted away from Eragon, moving so that his closeness to Eragon didn't seem overly concerned or friendly. His hand lingered for a moment on Eragon's chest before he let it drop to his side. Arya's eyes followed him for a moment before she turned her gaze to Vanir as the haughty elf's eyes blinked open.

Murtagh could see Vanir glance around the room, wincing slightly as the pain of the rite caught up with him.

"I assume it worked, then?" he asked rhetorically, looking from Murtagh to Arya. Vanir eyes glanced briefly at the three still unconscious in the room, but apparently decided no further inspection was needed as he turned his attention back to Arya and Murtagh.

"It seems we were successful, yes." Arya replied, watching as the male elf pushed himself up so he could sit cross-legged on the stone floor. "Lady Nasuada will be pleased."

A knock came at the door, the heavy wooden slab being pushed open before any of them could reply.

Murtagh turned his head to see who had entered the room, not too surprised to see the older elf at the door.

Oromis was smiling in satisfaction, eyes running over the room briefly and taking note of the three still knocked out.

"I suppose congratulations are in order." he told them. "With such a low chance of success, I doubted I would see you alive again, but you have managed to overcome the odds and survive." He turned to Murtagh, expression turning thoughtful yet secretive.

"I am to inform you that Nasuada wishes to see you. Please dress- a messenger is waiting outside to take you to her." His tone betrayed nothing of what the leader of the Varden would wish to discuss with Murtagh, but the red Rider could guess.

Murtagh nodded, slowly pushing himself up to stand on unsteady legs. He walked over to where Svara had folded his clothes earlier, wincing slightly at the strain even such little movement put on his weary body and keenly aware of the elves watching him. Once he reached his clothes, he slowly bent over and picked them up. As he moved, his muscles grew used to motion again and his gestures became more fluid.

He slid the shirt back onto his body, buttoning the majority of the fastenings but not bothering with them all. He slid his arms into the vest, but left the buckles unfastened.

Murtagh turned back to Oromis, moving passed the elf to the door.

He ignored the eyes on his back as he exited through the door.

Insert Line

As promised, Murtagh found at messenger waiting for him just outside, in the hall.

She turned to face him as the door shut behind the red Rider, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail that swung with the motion.

She eyed him once, mistrust evident in her eyes before she turned away.

"Please follow me." she requested, tone flat. She obviously resented being given the job, but Murtagh didn't allow her ire to bother him.

He was free.

With a small, secret smile on his face he began following the messenger girl.

It was such an obvious thought, but the fact hadn't truly hit him until that moment.

He flexed his fingers, and - despite knowing the only physical chains he had worn recently had been those that the Varden had shackled him with- it still felt as if a great weight had only now been lifted.

He was free. Free to choose his own path in life- his own side in the war. Free to swear loyalty to whom he chose.

Free from having to face Eragon on the battlefield with the intent to kill the chocolate-eyed Rider.

Murtagh tore himself from his musings, blinking and turning his attention to his surroundings as he followed the messenger down the hall.

The stone floor below his feet was worn by the passage of many people over the years. There were several handsome statues lining the hall, all made of a pitch-black, glittering stone. The red Rider took a moment to admire the works of art, paying less attention to his tense and silent escort than the statues.

The one closest to him was of a beautiful- if strange- creature. The figure was woman from waist up, and fish from waist down. Her tail curled slightly around the large rock she sat upon, her hair trailing in front of her body to hide her ample chest.

The fish-woman's eyes were staring straight ahead, her lips curved into a smile.

Farther down the hall, Murtagh could see more statues of fantastic creatures- one with the head and wings of an eagle with talons as forepaws, and the hindquarters of a horse! Yet another was of a large cast, face etched into an endless snarl and two large wings extending from the animal's back.

So absorbed was he in his observations, he almost didn't realize his escort had stopped. He stopped just short of hitting her.

She shot him an annoyed look before turning to the door she had paused in front of.

Murtagh studied the door. It seemed thicker than most other doors he had seen so far in the castle, but as to why that was he didn't know.

The messenger knocked twice.

"My Lady, I have brought the red Rider." she called, then waited.

"Let him in."

The woman's voice was muffled by the door, but Murtagh recognized it. He had known her only briefly and the last time they had met she had nearly ordered his death, but he was grateful to her just the same.

However close she had come to having him killed, it had been by her order he was alive and free now.

His escort pulled open the door, holding it open as she stared warily at him.

He met her stare coldly for a moment as he passed her, walking into the room. He could hear her aggravated sigh behind him as she let the door go. It shut with a 'bang'.

The red Rider looked around the new room, eyes widening slightly as he realized where he was.

'The armory...'

The room was dark, lit only by four torches- two on each side. The flickering of the fire left areas of the room in deep shadows. For just a moment, the red Rider thought he could see movement beyond the glow of the torchlight.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the room in general.

Weapons lined the walls. From ceiling to floor there were pikes of varying lengths, wooden staves, swords, and a host of other weapons Murtagh recognized- along with some he had never before seen. The metal of the blades gleamed in the light, each wickedly sharp. Murtagh allowed his eyes to trail along the swords for several moments, missing the comfortable feel of Za'roc at his side.

He continued on in his study of the room.

Shelf units stood freestanding on the floor, holding bows of varying sizes. Cases of arrows occupied the floor next to each shelf unit, the number of arrows per case more than enough to stock several quivers each.

The red Rider glanced to the dark area of the room again. He could have sworn he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but as he looked harder only darkness met his gaze.

Frowning slightly, he looked to the center of the room.

Nasuada stood alone at the single table in the armory, leaning against the waist-high wooden slab as she watched him. On the table, Murtagh noted, were many different weapons too small to hang- daggers of varying lengths, mostly, but there were a few more exotic weapons. The pale man noticed small circles, tiny blades extending from the circles at three points or more. A set of weapons were simply blades curved into a 'U' shape, the sharp edge along the outside of the weapon with grips to hold onto the inside of the 'U'. A slim package wrapped in dark red cloth was also on top of the table, directly behind Nasuada.

He met Nasuada's eyes.

Even though she seemed to be alone, Murtagh doubted that all was as it appeared. It would be foolish and reckless for her- the leader of the rebellion- to be alone while meeting someone that had- until recently- been her enemy's greatest weapon. Especially in an armory, where Murtagh had easy access to a number of weapons.

His mind suddenly flashed back to the small hints of movement he had noticed in the shadows of the room.

'So there are where her guards are hidden.' The fact that Nasuada had brought guards, yet kept them hidden, meant that this was a test. If he proved to be a traitor through and through, then her guards would jump into action and would attempt to take his life. If he didn't threaten her at all, then the soldiers would stay invisible.

"Hello, Murtagh." Nasuada's voice drew him out of his thoughts, her tone even and emotionless.

The red Rider nodded respectfully back.

"Hello, Lady Nasuada." he returned. Silence reigned for a moment, but then Nasuada pushed away from the table and stood straight.

Murtagh did notice, however, that she stayed well within arms reach of a weapon.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I chose to meet you here." she said slowly. She glanced down at the table, eyes running casually over the weapons. "To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure whether or not to expect you. I take your presence here to mean that the ritual succeeded." It wasn't a question. Still, Murtagh nodded.

"You'll fight with us?" she asked, meeting his eyes again. A demanding note had entered her voice, but also expectance.

She already knew his answer, but he gave it anyway.

"Yes."

Nasuada smiled briefly and relaxed. The red Rider hadn't realized how tense she had been until that tension was gone.

She turned back to the table and picked up the long, thin cloth-wrapped package Murtagh had noticed earlier. She picked it up carefully before turning back to Murtagh.

"Don't misunderstand me. You're on probation from this moment on." She handed the package to him. As he took it, his eyes widened yet again. He began unwrapping the object, hardly daring to believe it as the familiar weight settled in his palms. He allowed the cloth to fall to the ground, Za'roc revealed as the red cloth fell. For the first time in weeks, he had his sword back, sheath and all.

He took a moment to just drink in the sight, from the red jewel in the hilt to the end of the dark wooden sheath.

Murtagh jerked his eyes back to the Varden's leader, his uncertainty mirrored by hers.

"I've returned Za'roc to you. Your magic will be left unsealed and I'll allow you to walk around the castle. You'll be given a proper room and will be allowed to visit Thorn. You will, however, be required to keep a guard with you at all times. Any violence against any member of the Varden will not be tolerated and severely punished. Sparring will be allowed, but only on the practice fields."

She stopped to take a breath.

"Your probation period ends when you have proven yourself trustworthy. I shall also require you to join us in the upcoming battle-"

"Battle?" Murtagh interrupted, unable to stop the question in his mind from turning into a word in his mouth.

"Galbatorix has become much more active since the beginning of your stay with us." Nasuada told him, voice flat and clinical. "We leave in ten days."

Murtagh's hands curled tightly around his sheathed weapon, though otherwise he gave no indication of the fury suddenly raging inside of him at the sound of that man's name.

"I understand. I will fight with the Varden." he replied coolly. Silence fell for another moment, broken yet again by Nasuada.

"Since I have apparently made myself clear, there is one more thing I would like to mention." The Varden's leader allowed a small smile to grace her lips.

Murtagh waited.

"I'd like to request your presence at the feast tonight, to honor those elves that have assisted us for the past few days." She didn't need to say with what they had assisted.

"Request?" Murtagh asked. "Not require?" A small half-smile spread over his face.

How long had it been since he had been allowed to choose what he did?

Nasuada nodded.

"You may choose to come or not. We'll be celebrating outside, beginning at sunset."

Murtagh nodded. The Varden's leader motioned to the door of the armory, turning away from him.

"Kila will show you to your room. Krin is already waiting for you there." She dismissed him.

He turned, Za'roc still held firmly in his hands. As he left, he could hear Nasuada's guards move forward, out of the shadows.

As the door shut behind him, he pretended to ignore the less-than-charitable comments clearly audible behind him.

"My Lady, that was extremely dangerous!"

"Such a traitor can't be trusted-"

"You can't seriously mean-"

"What if he turns on us?"

"Silence." The Varden's leader hadn't yelled, but the commanding tone of her voice instantly struck each guard silent. "Eragon trusts him. Murtagh is our ally now. I don't believe he will betray us, but as for my trust..."

He heard her pause contemplatively.

"We shall see."

The door shut with a 'bang'.

TBC…

A/N: Okay, that's over! Let me just say that 8B will be fun…

Oh- here's a site I found that I really liked! Diehard Paolini fans might not want to check it out, but it's a site dedicated to all the problems with the Inheritance Trilogy and Paolini as a writer. (I know it's odd for me- an Eragon fanfic writer- to like a site that lists and explains all the problems with Eragon and Eldest, but I was never crazy about the books… I like the characters, but there's just so much more in the poor characters Paolini never properly explored… In any case, I liked the books well enough to read them (once- you couldn't pay me to read Eldest all the way through again), but not enough to defend them, especially with so many obvious mistakes and rip offs). Here's the site- please delete the spaces: h t t p / w w w . a n t i – s h u r t u g a l . c o m / m i s s i o n . h t m

Please enjoy! (And for those diehard Paolini fans who are reading this and want to check it out anyway- please don't send hate mail to the site. I know that probably goes without saying, but just in case…)

Review Replies!

Jo:D – Thanks! I'm glad you liked the ritual! Hopefully you enjoyed this as well- there was some more MxE interaction- whee!

Peachie Bunni – I hate hooks too- I refused to go fishing for the longest time because I was afraid one of the hooks would just… (shudder). But they make for nice painful imagery! (And on the subject of getting things stuck in feet- once, a toothpick managed to get inside a layer of skin on the bottom of my foot. Not straight up and down, but so it was flat against my foot. It didn't hurt, but that was odd…). Hopefully you liked this- we're seeing at least a little more slash…?

Shadow of Darkness 22 – First off, you are reviewer number 300! (I still can't believe this has THAT many reviews!) But don'tcha just hate it- you finally get settled down to read something, and a parent calls you away to do a chore… Anyway, so happy you liked it! It was my first time really trying a ritual (if I remember rightly…) so I'm glad it wasn't too awful! Hope this update was soon enough for you!

Brandi N. Jones – Yay- you remembered the drool bucket! (high fives). So, the ritual was so drool-worthy it required you to empty the bucket twice? Damn I'm good! As for Murtagh- see, he's still alive! I haven't killed him off yet! (Though for future reference- especially remember this for later chapters- I am incapable of writing sad or tragic endings. I like fairytale-style endings, where everyone gets a 'happily ever after' of a sort.) I'm so happy- but make sure to take me down a few pegs, because my head seems to be swelling quite a bit with how everyone praises me! And the law against being as hot as Garrett Hedlund- I had the exact same thought! He is illegally good looking, and I just can not comprehend how some people just don't love him! The first movie I ever saw Garrett in was Eragon, and I had the rest of his roles (names and movies, even the order) memorized within a week, despite the fact it took me almost two months to finally get the other movies he has a role in. Personally, I agree that a lot of stuff in Eragon was taken from other books and that there's a lot more that could be done with it…

Alsdssg – Nope- the ritual was the first time Thorn spoke! I'm so happy you enjoyed the ritual! I tried to make it suspenseful, so it wouldn't be obvious and easy. (And your trip to Canada sounds like it was loads of fun- I love the zoo. Haven't been there in years, though…)

Ashyx – Hopefully this allayed your fears about Murtagh's fate! He's alive and well! I hope you enjoyed!

Ace03cute – I hope this chapter answered your question- Murtagh woke up! That's what happened next- I hope you enjoyed!

EmpyrealFantasy – Flatterer! But seriously, you do me more honor with your words of praise than I do by letting you read this little project of mine! I'm so happy you liked the ritual- I borrowed from any and all magical/ritual history I knew offhand to create it, and then I threw bits and pieces in for fanservice. (One of my friends really likes seeing Murtagh in pain because my friend is a Hurt/Comfort junkie…) As for a hint… hmmm… what can I say without giving it away? I will tell you this much- Eragon will try to hold on to his severely outdated beliefs, but only for so long can love be denied… Anyway, angst is fun! I intend to have quite a bit more fun with the boys before this is over. (Oh, and one more thing- them getting together isn't the end of the story, but rather the beginning. I have an idea for a final battle of sorts in my fic too- it'll be interesting to compare our stories later on! Oh, and sorry about not reviewing Chapter 4 of Clandestine- it was awesome! I'm just not good at voting…) Loveness! (huggles)

krista-shadow – They're all still alive- we saw them wake up. I'm glad they were convincing, though, so it didn't seem like it was just 'step-in-circle--say-chant—free-Murtagh—all-good'! I hope you enjoyed!

Izzers – So glad you liked! I tried really hard on the ritual, so I'm glad it turned out good!

ginovaefthefallen4 – Yay for signing in! (High fives) You're so lucky- I don't own either KH game, so I'm stuck borrowing. (I'm all proud of myself because I beat Sephiroth in KH2- yay!) I may or may not watch GR- I'm also not big on chick flicks. Give me a good action movie over a sappy romance any day! I'm so glad you like this, and that you liked the ritual too! I'm also very happy you agree with me on not skipping right to it- prolonging the suspense and just feeding everyone bits and hints every so often is so much fun, not to mention it makes getting to the slash all the sweeter! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

XDragonRiderx – Thanks! I hope this update was worth waiting for!

Sakura evil twin of Sango – Thanks- I hope this was soon enough!

Case-Chan'sAngel – Aw, you make me blush! I love you too!

October Morning – You're not a failure! If you're super busy, it's a wonder you have time to read this at all! I hope you enjoyed this, but since you liked the ritual so much I'm guessing this chapter was good for you…? I am really happy you enjoyed that chapter! I'm so happy you enjoyed! (And you really don't need to 'make up' for anything, since your reviews are always quite long! I love it!)

partnerincrime – Doing review replies at the end of a chapter helps me keep my thoughts in order, and know who's review I've already replied to! I have a terrible memory, so I'd end up sending a reply multiple times, or completely forget someone… Glad you like the story otherwise!

Novicewriter – Thanks! I'm so happy you like it so much!

xokobio – I'm glad you liked the ritual! Speaking of movies, wouldn't In Dreams be neat as a movie? It may just be overconfidence or egotistical of me, but I wish that someone would do a couple of scenes from In Dreams as an amateur video and post it on YouTube. You know how some people do skits with friends? It would just be a complete ego boost and would just be awesome if someone did that! (Sorry- the 'movie' comment got me started…)

Ore no Naruto – I hope you enjoyed this as much as you did the previous chapter!

Knight.in.shining.Ed – I'm the same way- whenever I read something, even if I really like it, I'm usually pulled away by other matters before I can review! I'm glad you like it though! (And as for them getting together… well, I can say it happens, and that it happens relatively soon in comparison to the end of the story. Them getting together is hardly the ending, and there are so many more loose ends to tie up…)

Sirana – Thanks! I tried to make it thrilling! I really liked having Thorn in there as well- when the idea hit, it just seemed too perfect to pass up… I hope this update was soon enough for you! I'm also WAY honored by your praise! Unfortunately, I don't know any other good stories posted on other websites- most Eragon fanfics are of the EragonArya, MurtaghNasuada, EragonOC, or MurtaghOC variety.

Black Juju – The 'That was so cool!' comment seemed perfectly intelligent to me! I say it all the time, and I'm in all Honors courses. If nothing else, at least it's a common phrase and easy to understand! I'm so happy you liked it- I love the ritual myself, and sometimes I just have fun messing with the characters a bit… I hope you do like the rest of the chapters as much as you liked the ritual chapter!

FangedWriter – I hope you liked this! (I also hope I manage to add in more slash soon…)

Starsage – True- it's very unlikely that Eragon would be able to defeat Galbatorix by himself. Not impossible though! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!

InsaneBlackHeart – I'm so glad you liked it- hope this chapter was worth waiting for!

DaTwistedSisters – I'm glad you enjoyed! I betcha you weren't the only one scared for the success or failure of the ritual! I hope you liked this chapter just as much!

WalkingInDarkness737 – I'm glad you think so! Intensity in chapters is always great to read… A lot of people have said they liked Thorn in there as well! I'm glad you like the detail amount! I always try to put in enough so you can get a feel for the scene and a feel for the characters too, but I know that sometimes too many facts can be a bit overwhelming… I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Kaylen – Thanks! I know it's so disappointing when there's a huge buildup for something, and then the actual 'thing' that the buildup was for just does not meet expectations… I'm glad I did okay! I hope this little mini-slash bit (at the beginning of the chapter) will be enough to tide you over until the romance level thickens… If it's any consolation, more slash scenes like that to come? And that they'll get together long before the story is over…?

October Morning – I'm so glad! A lot of people have said they liked the ritual- phew! Now that the hard part is over (namely, getting Murtagh to be free and all) I should have an easier time making things flow, though I'm sorry to say I haven't been able to write for a while. (I only have the next chapter fully written- eek! Plus, it's a really mean cliffie, so I KNOW everyone will want to kill me…) But yes- so glad you like it! I think this would make an awesome movie too, but in the absence of large quantities of money to make that dream a reality, I'll settle for being descriptive as I can! Hopefully it will be enough!

Wolf-of-Insanity – First of all, I hope this update was soon enough to keep you sane! I'm so glad you like this- and welcome to the fandom, since you said you were new! I'm actually relatively new to this fandom myself (The only reason I read Eragon was because a friend of mine wanted me to go with him to see the movie and he wouldn't take me unless I had read the book… In any case, I had only just begun reading fanfiction when I noticed a severe lack of MurEra, and an extreme amount of EraOC and MurOC, and MurNas, and EraArya, and- well, I could go on. I decided to write my own, since it was so desperately needed! Never expected it to take off quite like this, though…) And don't worry- I'll keep going with this!

Eryl – So happy you liked it! And Eragon technically is the main character (though we all know that- if the main character was decided by how hot and sexy he was- the main character should be Murtagh) so he gets more screen time. Besides, I can make him angst more! I hope you enjoyed this update!

PeachyStone – Thanks! I always like to do my best on characterization… especially since so many stories seem to be missing that key element. Slash is all well and good, but slash in character is the best of all! Just be careful not to compliment me too much- I'll get a swelled head! (Ego is currently the size of an elephant…) And I WISH I could replace Paolini! If you don't mind me saying so, I believe I've given the characters more personality in the past 17-18 chapters than he has done in 2 books. But yes, I'm a HUGE fan of YGO yaoi! The original reason I watched the series: Yami/the Pharaoh/Atemu, whatever you want to call him. The reason I stayed: Yami Bakura (Something about him is drop dead sexy), Yami Marik (LONG story- but I love his voice in the Japanese version. If you haven't heard it, you MUST go to YouTube and try and find a clip!), Marik (something about guys with bronze skin who can wear gold…), Ryou (He's just so sweet!), tendershipping (BxR forever!), and bronzeshipping (doubt I need to explain this one). I can't watch GX, mostly because it took away all the bishies and the cool dark magic (I saw the American 4Kids dubbed version before I knew better- the original Japanese version is WAY better!) and just left the thrice-damned card game. I didn't watch it for the CARDS, I watched it for the BISHIES! I do have a Deck of my own- Fiend-Type, just because I love Yami Bakura! (I even have Dark Necrofear, and even though I do have more powerful cards (I have Blue Eyes White Dragon, Dark Eradicator Warlock, Sorcerer of Dark Magic, and Raviel Lord of Phantasms (birthday gift)) she's my favorite. One of my friends even got me the Destiny Board- all 5 cards of the set! Ah, sorry to just keep going on and on about the game- one of my friends taught me how to play…

13BlacKAnGELs – I'm glad you think so! As I said, it was really the first one I did and I wasn't entirely sure about the outcome… I hope you enjoyed the bit of slash in this chapter so far! There's another one for certain that I can think of, coming very soon… I see Chapter 8 as more of a precursor to the actual slash, since there is so more slashy stuff to come in this chapter, but the real REAL fun starts in Chapter 10. (I still consider 8 where the slash starts, since now Murtagh can chase after Eragon… . Let's just say the best of Chapter 8 is yet to come!) And I hope this update was quick enough to earn me that Murtagh plushie, and perhaps that Thorn plushie!

GoCryEmoKid – Sorry about the typos! I usually expect either my beta or my spell checker to catch those- sometimes I write too fast and don't realize when some of the keys stick! I'm glad you like my writing!

thebrunetteditz – I study Mixed Martial Arts- it's a mix of tae kwon do, sho-rae ru (not entirely sure about the spelling of that), kempo, and a few others thrown in. I got my first degree black belt (a jr. black belt, since I'm still a minor and all) a few years back and will be going for my second degree soon! And you got a Harry Potter cake? Lucky! I love Harry Potter- I'm so excited for July! First, the movie on the 13th (I already know I'm going to hate some of the movie, but I still want to see it!) and then the book on the 21st! I don't want the series to end… but end it must. All good things must end… Oh, but about me hating part of the movie… Well, in the trailer, I saw Harry Potter kissing Cho Chang. I'm a BIG HPDM shipper, so whenever I read about/see Harry in the books/movies kissing Cho or Ginny I get all 'GRR!' and 'MUST have slash NOW'.

Schnoodle – That's great that you're feeling better! I hope this update was quick enough for you!

Case-Chan'sAngel – I love you too! Aw, everyone's just so nice! I'm glad the characterization was good- I try! Hopefully this update was just as enjoyable as the last!

Shloki – I'm glad it's original- I try hard not to copy other people! Some ideas are just way overdone in some fandoms, and even the best of fics can be ruined if it has too many fandom cliches! I'll do my best to keep this story up to snuff!

CaramelBoost – (grabs cookie) All forgiven! (laughs) But seriously, no need to bow! I know all about alerts being jammed- I have problems with review alerts sometimes. I get nothing for days after I post, and then BAM!- 20 reviews I have to reply to. This site just jams up the alerts sometimes- I won't hold it against you! I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous few chapters! Just knowing that makes this all the more worthwhile- I'm glad I'm not the only one getting enjoyment out of the story! (And if it helps ease your conscience, apology wholeheartedly accepted!)


	19. Chase

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

This is dedicated to my awesome beta- Shauna! She's been a doll, helping me out with revisions.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

IMPORTANT NOTE! Okay, so… I really, REALLY hate to do this to you all, but this is the last chapter I have fully written (I have 8C half-completed) and I won't be able to post on time next week. I might not be able to post for a little while- meaning there may not be any updates until summer (defined as June 5th onwards). BUT! Most likely, I'll post during Final Exam week, since we have more time off school and no homework. (I actually enjoy final exams…). Exam week is first week of June, and not all that far off. At worst, you'll be waiting a month for the next chapter. Sorry!

In Dreams VIII, Part B

Kila- the messenger girl- lead Murtagh directly to his room, even more wary of him now that he held his sword. Thankfully, the trip was quick. Kila spent perhaps ten minutes leading him to his room, stopping in front of a door and motioning irritably towards it.

Having completed her task, she turned abruptly and walked away. She disappeared down the hall.

Murtagh turned to the door, pushing it open as the messenger's footsteps faded. Curious as to what the room he had been given was like, he walked in.

As soon as he set foot inside, movement to his right caught his eye. The red Rider turned in the direction of the motion, tensing instinctively as he prepared for an attack.

To his surprise, the movement had just been Krin as the teen straightened from leaning against the wall.

The teen's cool green eyes flicked to Za'roc- still in Murtagh's hands- before meeting the hazel orbs of the Rider.

"Since Lady Nasuada apparently trusts you enough to return that-" he spat the word, as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. "- I suppose I can trust you enough to allow you some privacy in your room."

Mouth clenched tightly shut, Krin brushed passed the startled Rider to the door.

"I'll still be watching you, make no mistake." Krin told him, tone brittle and harsh. "If I even think you'll betray the Varden, I'll kill you."

Without waiting for any form of response- not that Murtagh was certain how to answer such a statement- Krin exited, leaning against one of the outside walls with his back to the room. The door was left open, but being alone in his room- despite the guard just feet from him- was more than he had expected.

He looked around.

The room he found himself in was a bit smaller than the room he had lived in at Galbatorix's palace, and much more sparsely decorated and furnished, but to the red Rider it was no contest which room he preferred. He would take this room and life as a rebel over service to the mad king any day.

From where he stood just inside the door, he could see the entire room. Immediately to Murtagh's left was a cloak, hanging on a hook right next to the door. A bed was in the far left corner, the dark red bedspread the only real color visible. Next to the bed- about two feet from the side and a foot from the wall- stood a wooden chest of drawers. Light shone brightly from the window just above the chest, but other than that there was nothing to light the room.

Curious, Murtagh moved forward, placing Za'roc and his vest on top of the chest before kneeling in front of it and opening the top drawer to see what it contained.

Shirts of various styles greeted him, folded neatly. From what he could see- and he was certain he could see all the tops, as there weren't many- all were black. Some were long sleeved, like what he wore now, but others had short sleeves, and one or two had no sleeves at all, just strips of cloth a few inches thick that would hold the shirt over his shoulders.

He shut the first drawer, opening the second.

The drawer held pants, all folded just as neatly as the shirts had been in the first drawer. All were made out of dark leather, like the pair he had been given earlier and now wore.

He shut it, opening the third and final drawer.

This one held the smaller, other items of clothing he would need.

He shoved it closed and stood, walking over to his bed. He allowed himself to fall onto the slightly lumpy mattress, rolling onto his back the moment he hit the surface.

Automatically, his arms folded behind his head and he stared at the ceiling. Thoughts were whirling through his mind, ideas in an endless loop yet each one passing through his mind so quickly he barely had time to recognize the idea before another replaced it.

Foremost was one thought that had hit him earlier.

'I'm free.'

It was such a glorious feeling- he had freedom, for the first time in what felt like decades. In reality, he knew it hadn't been more than a year Galbatorix had controlled him, but his freedom and will had been sorely missed. Now that he had them back, it was such a warm, buoyant feeling.

Just yesterday he had been locked inside a cell, bound physically by one group and mentally by another. His future had seemed so uncertain yesterday, so dark and foreboding. Today, he could scarcely imagine the apprehension and worry that had plagued him inside that cell.

Certainly he was still restricted by laws, and he had fewer privileges than the other members in the Varden had, but such rules would soon stop restraining him. All he needed was to prove his loyalty to the Varden- and even if it took him until the day Galbatorix died, he would. It wasn't as if proving his loyalty would be extremely difficult- being ordered not to betray the rebels again was like being ordered to follow his heart's desires.

'My heart's desires...'

He sighed softly and rolled over onto his side, now staring at the wall. Chocolate colored eyes and warm, open smiles danced in his minds eye, the image tantalizingly close yet just out of reach.

Now that he had the freedom to move about the castle- he had been given that much, at least- there was no need to wait for Eragon to come to him. Murtagh was no longer confined to a cell, unsure of night and day, not knowing when he might next see his brother. Now it would be a simple matter to seek the blue Rider out and request a private meeting with him to talk.

They had much to discuss.

'"You are not a brother to me."'

The intense curiosity and the need to know exactly what his brother meant flared up inside of the red Rider, as it had every time he had reflected on those words. The need burned through him, body itching to push off the bed and find Eragon right now. He itched to demand from Eragon the truth, needed to ask why the other Rider had avoided him.

It hadn't escaped his notice that Eragon had refused to meet with him alone after that- the blue Rider had come with the group of elves, making it impossible for Murtagh to confront him on the matter. The subject was a private one- not something to demand an explanation for in front of others.

It was something just between the two of them.

Taking deep breaths, Murtagh quelled his curiosity, stemming the flow of the burning need to know.

'Soon.' he promised himself.

Soon he would get Eragon alone. Soon he would be able to demand all the answers he desired. Soon he would know whether or not the tiny amount of hope Eragon's words had raised inside of him was foolish.

Soon, perhaps he would be living out his dreams instead of merely recalling the illusions of heat and warmth and comfort.

Perhaps it wasn't too much to hope for, but he would never know until Eragon told him.

He yawned.

The ritual had taken a toll on him as well, and his bed was surprisingly comfortable for such a lumpy mattress. He closed his eyes.

He would need his rest for tonight.

The festival for the elves would most likely be attended by all in the Varden- especially by those with close ties to the elves. Most certainly by a Rider that had participated in the ritual...

Eragon would be there- there was no doubt in Murtagh's mind about that.

Tonight would be his first opportunity to get his brother alone- and a golden opportunity at that. In all the hustle and bustle of a party, with the distractions of food, drink, and dance, no one would notice the two Riders slip away. Murtagh didn't intend to let the chance pass him by with nary a whisper from him.

Tonight he would be able to confront Eragon.

Murtagh let his breathing slow, evening out as he allowed himself to drift into sleepy darkness as it gently beckoned him.

_"Murtagh..."_

_Gentle kisses._

_Soft laughter._

_"I..."_

_A truth he knew so well._

_A phrase he lived to hear._

_"...you."_

_A heart that beat in rhythm with his own._

Insert Line 

The noises of merriment and laughter drifted passed sleeping ears, slowly prodding the sleeper into wakefulness. 

Hazel eyes opened lazily, Murtagh pushing himself up to a sitting position on his bed. He glanced around, noting how much darker his room was than before he had fallen asleep. A small amount of light still shone in from the lone window, but it was clear that hours had passed since he had first arrived at his room. 

He stood, a small smile appearing on his face as he stretched. Judging from the silver shade of the light shining in from his window, night had already fallen. 

'"We'll be celebrating outside, beginning at sunset."' Nasuada's words came back to him. 

He quickly did up the buttons on his shirt, then grabbing and sliding his vest over the smooth material and fastening the buckles. He tugged at his garments, making sure they didn't bunch up uncomfortably. It also served to make the clothes look less slept-in. He left Za'roc on top of the chest, sure he wouldn't be needing the deadly weapon. 

Satisfied with his appearance after a moment or two of tugging this way and that on his clothes, he moved over to the cloak that hung next to the still-open door. The cloak, like all his other clothes, was black. He pulled it off the peg, throwing it on quickly. 

It was time to make an appearance at a certain feast... 

Insert Line 

Murtagh moved through the crowd at the outdoor feast.Well, more like a festival. The grounds had been cleared of any temporary constructions (such as archery targets and poles for sword training) to make way for several large bonfires. Groups of people gathered around these fires, laughing and talking while others busied themselves with cooking meat on spits over other, smaller fires. Small children ran from bonfire to bonfire, laughing and shrieking in delight as they chased each other about the field. 

A large area of land had been cleared- most likely the main area of the training field, judging by the sheer number of pockmarks and gouges in the ground- for a dance floor. Several couples littered the area, dancing to the lively music of the musicians. Murtagh assumed the musicians were simply some of the musically talented people in the Varden, as he could vaguely recall seeing some of their faces on the battlefield. 

He turned his attention away from the dancing couples, moving on. 

He could smell the delicious scent of cooking meats, but he ignored his stomach's call for food. He had a more important task at hand. The food would still be there later, after all, it couldn't get up and walk away. 

Of course, before the red Rider could find Eragon, there was a certain shadow he needed to lose.

Murtagh glanced covertly to his side, seeing the green-eyed teenager in his peripheral vision. The boy had been shadowing him ever since he had left his room. The moment Murtagh had stepped out into the hall, Krin had followed without so much as a word passing between them. 

Of course, it wasn't as if the only eyes watching him were cold and green. 

The people of the Varden also watched him. He could feel several openly hostile stares, as well as some simply curious. Others watched him with suspicion, but all that was simply to be expected. The sudden silencing of the lively conversations he passed within earshot of was expected as well. The people of the Varden gave him a wide berth, either avoiding his eyes or glaring at him. Any child that passed too close to the red Rider was quickly snatched back by a worried mother or wary father. 

The only person within three feet of him was Krin, and that was only so the teen could keep an eye on him. 

'Maybe I should have found a change of clothes.' Murtagh thought dryly. Black certainly stood out- the majority of the people wore colorful clothes, vibrant yellows and oranges, varying shades of blue and brown, and others- and Murtagh could say with confidence he was the only one wearing any black, let alone only black. At the very least, blending in with the crowd would have spared him some of the attention he was receiving. Being so visible would make it difficult to sneak away once he finally found Eragon. 

In a crowd of this size, however, where could he even begin to look? He glanced around at the sheer number of people milling about. It would take hours, and by then the feast might be over. 'Where are you?' 

He caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye- a flash of a very familiar shade of blue. 

Murtagh turned towards the image, heart speeding up slightly in anticipation. 

He didn't know how he knew, but there was no doubt that only Eragon would wear a blue dark enough to be a perfect match for the sapphire dragon's scales. His hunch was confirmed when chocolate eyes met his own. 

Eragon's eyes widened in what appeared to be shock, but the expression was quickly clouded over by a thin mask of neutrality as the blue Rider turned away to head back through the crowd. 

Without thinking, Murtagh followed. 

Behind him, he could hear Krin's puzzled gasp, as well as the footsteps turning to follow him, but he ignored it. He could see Eragon many feet ahead and he didn't even want to blink for fear of losing sight of his brother. 

The blue Rider was moving quickly, politely stepping passed people talking, taking care not to bump into anyone as he moved. Murtagh did likewise, though he was actually aided in the fact that no one was close enough for him to run into. He smirked inwardly. 

While their avoidance of him had annoyed him before- it was never pleasant to be reminded that so many people loathed you or feared you when you wished them no harm- now it worked to his advantage. While Eragon had to go through people, the crowds parted for the red Rider. 

He was gaining on his brother, and while Murtagh could hear Krin just behind him he also knew that he would be able to lose the guard soon. 

Eragon glanced back, chocolate meeting hazel. The gaze was quickly broken by the blue Rider, who turned his attention back to his path and sped up, being less careful about bumping into people as he hastened to increase the distance between himself and Murtagh. 

Murtagh followed suit. The gap between them was slowly shrinking, all due to the fact that Eragon's speed and path of travel was bound by the people of the Varden and Murtagh had no such obstacle. 

Eragon glanced back again, quickly changing his gaze to look forward. 

Murtagh couldn't be sure, as Eragon wasn't facing him, but he believed the blue Rider was smiling. He followed his brother's gaze curiously. 

About twenty feet from Eragon's position, and thirty feet from Murtagh, he could see a thinning of the crowd. He nearly cursed out loud, speeding up to try and catch Eragon before the other managed to get out of the crowd and run. 

If Eragon got away now, the red Rider knew there would be little chance to catch his brother unawares again. If Murtagh could only catch him before he left, catch him while surrounded by people, it would be easy enough to request a private talk. Eragon wouldn't be able to refuse, since such an action would doubtless make it seem as if the blue Rider didn't trust his brother. With so many people within earshot, it wouldn't take long for it to get around that Murtagh was not to be trusted and the outcry against him would be immense. Nasuada needed him for the upcoming battle, the pale man knew, and if no one trusted one of her warriors- one of her two strongest... It would be bad. 

Up ahead, he could see Eragon speeding up as well, not quite shoving people away as he ran with quick apologies thrown over his shoulder. 

Murtagh did curse out loud as he saw Eragon break through the group of people, instantly breaking into a full-out run away from the party and into the darkness of the night. 

Ignoring the affronted cries of the people he shoved out of the way, Murtagh began running as well, breaking through the throng seconds behind Eragon. Krin, however, was not so lucky- the red Rider ignored the trapped guard's enraged yells as he followed after his brother. 

The distance between them was growing rapidly, Eragon having the advantage of elf-like speed on open terrain. Murtagh ran as quickly as he could, hismain goal to keep Eragon in sight until he found a way to corner the other Rider. 

His lungs burned as he ran, chest heaving as he took in gulp after gulp of air. His eyes were dry, but he rarely blinked. 

He could feel his heart pound in his chest, the blood rush through his veins. He could feel the wind whipping through his hair, hear the sound of his feet as they slammed in the dirt and propelled him forward. 

He squinted in the dim light of the moon, barely keeping sight of the blue-clad Rider in front of him. He could tell that Eragon was running towards the castle- he could see the wall- but had no clue if there was a doorway through which the blue Rider could pass. 

Up ahead, Eragon reached the wall. He paused for a moment, head turning left and right as he tried to decide which way to go. Fifty feet to the right stood another wall. Twenty feet to the left stood a small copse of trees, but otherwise open land only marked by a few trees until the outermost walls of the castle rose. 

Apparently there was no doorway. 

Murtagh could barely make out Eragon's head turning to look behind him, only heard a muffled curse carried by the wind as Eragon took off to the right. 

Puzzled, Murtagh corrected his path and pushed himself faster, intending to intercept his brother. 

He drew closer and closer, distance shrinking faster and faster as he raced along his diagonal path to the where his path and Eragon's would intersect. 

He could see his brother quickly approaching the wall, but to his surprise and alarm the blue Rider wasn't slowing. 

"Eragon!" he called out, trying to push himself faster and becoming frustrated as his body informed him he was already at his limit. 

The blue Rider glanced over at him once, just ten feet from the wall, seeming to pick up even more speed. 

Eight feet. 

Six. 

Two. 

Inches. 

The blue Rider disappeared. 

It took a moment for Murtagh's brain to process the information, but the moment it did he growled. 

There was likely a small hallway hidden by the darkness of the night and by the second wall. Eragon had known about the small passageway and taken advantage of the knowledge. 

Murtagh shot into the outdoor hallway, putting his left hand out to grope blindly for the wall. He found it, fingers skimming over the smooth stones as he followed the quiet noises of the person he pursued. 

The passageway was dark, little light from the moon managing to penetrate the small space. It was too dangerous to run very fast- Murtagh slowed slightly, but was still moving at a pretty fast clip when his hand suddenly left the stones and only cool air met his fingers. 

He turned left, grateful for the reflexes that kept him from hitting the far wall. He could still hear the hurried footsteps of his brother, but he seemed to be getting closer. 

With his left hand on the wall again, he sped up. 

Small pockets of moonlight managed to find their way down this section of the hallway- with their help, he could see his brother rapidly approached a small wooden doorway all the way at the end of the passage. He increased his speed again, knowing there were no more turnoffs he needed to worry about. 

His heart sank as Eragon reached the door, but he still pushed himself harder. 

"Eragon!" he called again, some of his frustration seeping into his voice. 

His brother ignored him, grabbing for the door handle and pulling on the door. 

It didn't budge. 

Murtagh was close enough now to see Eragon's desperate pulling on the door, but the heavy wood only responded by shaking slightly in the frame. 

It was locked- Eragon was cornered, since the hallway wasn't wide enough to allow the blue Rider to run passed Murtagh. Eragon knew it too- the red Rider could see it in his brother's eyes as the brunette turned to face Murtagh, anger and defiance in those beautiful chocolate orbs. 

As he drew closer, he slowed to a walk, panting slightly from the exertion of running. He could hear Eragon breathe as well- not as heavy as Murtagh's own, but it was still clear the blue Rider had used quite a bit of energy in his haste to get away. 

Moonlight shone down on Eragon, illuminating the tenseness of the blue Rider's body and the locked door behind him. 

Murtagh stepped into the moonlight, only a foot from his brother now. The blue Rider tensed further, staring at the red Rider angrily and almost... scared? 

"Eragon..." he said slowly, breath coming back to him gradually. "We need to talk." 

TBC…

A/N: That cliffhanger is the main reason I'm sorry about not being able to post next week. Now, how many of you want to kill me? (Looks around and gulps at the number of sharp, pointy objects the readers have managed to obtain). Well, I'll just be going then… (runs). Sorry again- I'll get the next chapter done as soon as I can!

Review Replies!

Brandi N. Jones – I know it was so close- they almost kissed last chapter! (And victory for me- round three for the drool bucket! I win!) I'm glad you liked the messenger- I like giving the minor characters a personality sometimes. I'm also happy it made your day brighter- I hate those days, where you'd rather just go to sleep and pretend it never happened… ah well, at least the update helped! I totally agree with you on Eldest- I forced my way through it (especially the middle parts- I HATED it) just so I could write this and have a basic working knowledge of the canon. But never fear- you're not the only one who really enjoys picking apart Paolini! (Is it odd that I love my characters- what I've done with Eragon, Murtagh, Nasuada, etc.- and don't like his? I don't know if I'll be able to go back through the books, especially since half the EraMur stories I find here are better written than the books themselves…) I'll update as soon as I can!

EmpyrealFantasy – Awesome timing girl! (high fives) I just love it when something so wonderful (at least, I hope you consider my updates wonderful- I try!) is timed so perfectly… It just makes it that much more awesome! I'm glad I'm not the only one who considers Kairi a moment-ruiner! So many perfect possible RikuSora (I love that pairing!) moments that her mere presence ruins! (But Kingdom Hearts 2, when they all met back up… I dare ANYONE to watch that scene and still argue that SoKai is more canon than RikuSora. I mean, come on! That moment SCREAMS yaoi! … Sorry if you haven't played KH2, by the way, I just had to rant. I love RikuSora so much!) Sorry to make your heart hurt- reviews come with time. The average number of reviews you get a chapter increases as you post more chapters. (Originally, the average reviews I had was 13 or 15, I forget which. The average has grown to 20, and I'm certain the average number of reviews for your story will increase! 'Clandestine' is just that good!) I know there wasn't a whole lot of 'fun' this chapter- more like the barest hint of 'fun' to come! Sorry about that… I must say that you caught on to how bad Eragon was before I did. I only really realized that after seeing the movie- granted, I saw the movie less than a week after reading the book for the first time- but I never really realized how tedious and boring the Inheritance Trilogy was until I tried sloughing through Eldest. Barely made it, and then I realized how wooden and unrealistic the characters were when I tried writing fanfiction about them. I realized that none of the characters physical descriptions stuck in my mind, they had no personalities, and lots of things were left unexplained. I almost wish that 'In Dreams' could be published instead of Book 3 (It'll be called 'Empire', I believe) since I think I do a bot more in the way of character development. My story is far from perfect, but I hope I'm giving at least some of the characters a more three-dimensional feel! I hope you enjoyed the website! (And speaking of- someone mentioned in one of the articles on that website how most people picked Murtagh as their favorite character, since he actually had something resembling depth to him. Most other characters are merely plot devices.)

Sakura evil twin of Sango – (takes cyber cookie. Munches.) Thanks! I hope this was a good chapter!

Adi Sagestar – Thanks! I hope you continue liking this story- I'll do my best!

Xokobio – Sorry- close, but not quite the first! I have to agree with you- it's highly doubtful anyone could or would turn this into a movie. For some things (like the ritual) a homemade movie probably wouldn't work very well… But I like to entertain crazy notions every once in a while!

krista-shadow – You're sick? (Well, you were sick?) Are you feeling better now? I hate getting sick- hopefully the chapter made the WONDERFUL symptoms of disease just a little bit easier to bear?

Ore no Naruto – Yup! I've always loved Riku, and last year I went as Tifa Lockhart (Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children) so I randomly decided to go as Riku! I'm so glad you liked last chapter! Hopefully you'll continue enjoying this so much… (though I am sorry to tell you that there is a HUGE chapter coming up- Chapter 13, to be exact, assuming my storyline stops adding things in- that will be all Eragon's POV. I don't doubt Chapter 13 will be the longest chapter of the story by far…)

Sirana – It really wasn't too fast- I just really felt like updating, and I had a chapter ready to upload, so I did! Besides, I know that everyone reading this likes my story at least a little… A lot of people have commented on the near-kiss between Eragon and Murtagh- temptation is SO much fun!

Black Juju – Thanks! I try- besides, I figured everyone had gone without slash long enough that I could stick a small slash scene in for all my lovely readers! (Besides, I wanted some slash too…)

Alsdssg – Glad you enjoyed! Lots of people seem to have enjoyed that scene… And I'm glad you like the site! They do bring up some really interesting points…

Kaylen – Thanks! Buildup is so much fun! Also… Murtagh being free is fun, since now he can chase Eragon! … and not do as bad a job as Eragon did when said blue Rider was chasing a certain elf princess… In any case- thank you again! I do my best, but I'm still an amateur writer. This is the best I can do for now, but since everyone likes it I guess I'm on my way to writing something publishable…? (And too true, it's a long way from over! We're on chapter 8 of 15/16, and that's not even including how many parts the chapters are going to be divided into… man, am I GLAD summer vacation is coming up, though I might not even be done with this story until well into my junior year.)

CaramelBoost – Heh heh… good idea! Eragon being the guard and all- I never even thought of that! Is that boring, just sticking to the same guard…? Whoops? As for the dying my hair silver- only temporarily, I'm afraid. I'd love to have silver hair 24/7, but I think that would give my poor mother fits… I like Eragon and Eldest a bit- but I'm more of a fanfiction fan as well, mostly because some fanfic authors have done more in the way of characterization and plot than Paolini has… I know I'll read Book 3 (probably going to be called Empire- most people are already calling the next book Empire) just to see if I can get any more slash hints out of it, despite the fact that I KNOW the book will be extremely predictable. Just to make sure I'm not surprised, I'll go back and watch Star Wars and Lord Of The Rings one more time because the parallels are painfully obvious… (And I heard about Paolini's condescending attitude! This is something he wrote in a review of the masterpiece, Harry Potter: 'One of the great pleasures of these novels has been watching Rowling's storytelling skills develop. And she certainly spreads her wings in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_.' (blinks) Excuse me? He's watching her skills develop? Just by the TONE of those two sentences, it's as if he's looking down on her which is simply not possible. He can't believe his writing equal to hers, can he…? No offense to any diehard Paolini fan, but even a diehard fan must admit that Rowling is just better with stories, especially when you look beneath the gilded cover and try to get to KNOW the characters. Harry has a personality. Eragon really doesn't. Hell, everyone in Harry Potter has a personality, whereas few in Eragon show that they are anything other than wooden plot devices…) Sorry- had a little Paolini rant- it's just that J.K. Rowling is my idol, and she just has so much original stuff in Harry Potter that I hate it that Paolini- who isn't as good as Rowling- looks down on her. Anyway… I hope you enjoyed!

XDragonRiderx – Everyone loves Murtagh! He's awesome…

Shadow of Darkness 22 – Ninjas rock- nothing to be embarrassed about! I'm so glad you liked it so much! (As for the Dr. Pepper thing… I'm more of a Mountain Dew Code Red or Livewire person myself, mostly because both sodas are basically sugar… I'm also weird in the fact that I like soda that ISN'T cold. Not warm soda exactly, but soda that isn't cold so I can gulp down said soda quickly. Cold soda is harder to drink quickly…) (Looks over her shoulder. "Hey boys- Shadow says 'hi'!" Listens. "They say 'hi' back!")

Peachie Bunni – So glad you like and approve! I know a lot of people wanted Murtagh to kiss Eragon then, but it's always fun to make the characters tease the readers just a bit… And excellent prediction! More angst because of Eragon is always fun, and actually (if you don't mind me saying so) exactly what I was thinking of. We get to see that next chapter… That's all I can say, though I may have said too much…

DaTwistedSisters – Me, a tease? I have no idea what you mean… So glad you enjoyed- hope this was worth waiting for!

Dragongirl – The MurtaghxEragon pairing is awesome! It's really my only pairing for this fandom… I'm so glad you like it so much! I try!

Izzers – Gee, if I was killing you LAST chapter, I wonder what I'm doing with this one (since it's such a bad cliffie and all…) So glad you like it so much! And good prediction- since they do have ten days before they leave, I wonder what'll happen… hmmm…

FangedWriter – I'm glad you liked it! Mini internal battles are always fun! (Sorry you couldn't get the site to work… I wonder why that was?)

Riku Love. – Love the name! Glad you like the fic! (I'm sorry you had to get kicked off the computer- I hated it when my parents kicked me off the computer, but I have a laptop now! They can just TRY to kick me off… heh heh… Hopefully you enjoyed this as well!

Wolf-of-Insanity – Glad you liked it! I know everyone wanted slash, and since I did put 'SLASH' in the summary I figured it was only fair to start actually HAVING some real slash! Thoughts aren't quite the same as actions… Hope you liked this chapter too!

Thebrunetteditz – Glad I made you happy! I try! (And do I say that a lot or what?) I can barely wait for Deathly Hallows! I am SO pulling an all-nighter to finish it. Will need to remember to stock up on soda… and I'll check that song out, thanks!

mercuryadept92 – So glad you're enjoying! (And everyone's looking forward to them kissing- sorry it wasn't in this chapter, but I assure you it's not too far in the future…) I hope this update was soon enough! I try to update quicker and a bit more regularly than other authors, just because I know people like having something semi-reliable…

LadyApril – Aw, you make me blush! People seem to do that a lot… but I'm so glad you liked it so much! It just makes me so happy (wipes away tears), especially since I really want to write a proper original novel and be an author when I'm older. Becoming a published author has been my dream since I was old enough to understand the meaning of the word, and it means a lot to me that you think my writing is decent! I know that Eragon and Murtagh are slightly OOC, but I think all fanfiction is OOC to some degree. (And did I really make Eragon seem like such a scaredy-cat? Whoops… I think he's okay, but it's hard to judge exactly how afraid someone would be of something like realizing they were gay and in love with a blood relative. Can't say I've ever been in either position myself, so I'm guessing.) I agree with you about the whole 'Talc-getting-beaten' part- it happens far too often in this world. Way, WAY too often… Hopefully that will change eventually, and the people who hate other people on the basis of something like sexual orientation (or race, or religion, or anything else- hell, as long as whatever someone else is doing doesn't hurt anyone else it's fine by me!) will finally see that homosexuals and bisexuals and transgender people and everyone else are allowed to be who they are. Sorry- had my own rant there! And don't worry about talking for too long- I love long reviews! Even if it's just about what you're thinking about, that's fine- it's interesting to hear other people's thoughts on things!

13BlacKAnGELs – Thanks! I'm so glad you like it! (grabs Murtagh plushie and huggles it to death) Yay! I got a plushie! (dances) Lesse… was this quick enough to earn me another plushie? If so, can I have an Eragon plushie? Thank you again!

Geek Squared 1307 – (bows) Thank ya, m'dear! Glad I've managed to develop Eragon a bit- it's always fun to play with the characters! And my sympathies on finals- I actually don't mind them, but then again I don't study so finals week holds no stress for me… I actually enjoy tests!

Teldra – Glad you like it! I'll update as soon as I can!


	20. Caught

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

Note: Whoa… this story has over 400 reviews! That is just an amazing amount to me… Thank you all very much! I love you all! I hope I did okay on this chapter… I hope no one's too disappointed…

NOTE: I have some of 8D written, but it may be another week or two before I can get that up… No worries! I shall have it for you soon, since SUMMER IS HERE! I have freedom!

In Dreams VIII, Part C

The blue Rider stared back at Murtagh, tense and stiff. His back was to the door, beyond which would have lain freedom. 

"There's nothing to discuss," he replied evenly. "Why did you chase me?" 

"Why did you run?" Murtagh returned. He stepped forward slightly, noticing how Eragon immediately drew back. The blue Rider seemed guarded, wary... but it was a different kind of wary than Murtagh had expected. 

The blue Rider didn't seem to think Murtagh was going to attack him, else Eragon would have drawn his sword. Eragon's hand wasn't even near the blade, arms folded over his chest instead. 

Murtagh allowed his eyes to trail over his brother's form for the first time that night, noticing how the top two buttons of Eragon's shirt were left open, exposing an almost teasing bit of skin around the base of the blue Rider's neck. The dark leather pants the other wore were snug with the shirt tucked in neatly at the top. 

The red Rider lifted his eyes, caressing Eragon's face with his gaze. 

His brother was flushed from the running, mouth parted as he took in air. As he watched, Eragon's tongue darted out to wet dry lips. It made them look even more tempting to the red Rider. For just a moment, he wondered how his brother would taste on his tongue… 

Murtagh forced himself to meet the blue Rider's eyes, noting the shock in those orbs. 

"All I want to do is talk, Eragon," Murtagh assured him, even as his body itched to move just a little bit closer. While he didn't want to just 'talk', he would settle for conversation and some answers from the other Rider for the moment. 

"What do I need to discuss with you? You've already thanked me for your life and that of Thorn-" Eragon cut himself off, anger blazing for a moment in his eyes from the memory before the brunette broke the eye contact. "The feast is over by the training fields. Isn't that why you came outside?" 

Murtagh thought for a second, considering his next words. It was clear Eragon remembered their last private meeting- one that had resulted in Eragon fleeing the dungeons;but it was also clear that the blue Rider would rather not recall it. 

"I came out here to find you. I know you know what I want to speak with you about," Murtagh replied honestly. He moved forward another step, watching his brother become more and more uncomfortable with the close proximity. That bothered him slightly, but not nearly enough to make him pull away. "Shall I tell you anyway?" 

Eragon shook his head defiantly, not looking at Murtagh. Silence from the other man was not the best way to start off a conversation. 

The red Rider paused for a moment, a soft, thoughtful look on his face. 

"Are you afraid of me, Eragon?" He knew the words would get him some form of a response, and right then all he cared about was receiving some form of acknowledgement. 

Eragon's head whipped back up, a glare firmly on his features as he met Murtagh's eyes. 

"I'm not afraid of anything!" he declared harshly. Murtagh stepped closer again, Eragon pressing himself into the door as the distance between them shrank to millimeters. The red Rider could feel the heat radiating from his brother, and practically feel the anxious thumping of the brunette's heart. 

It was glorious. What he wouldn't give to always be this close…

"Then why do you run from me? Why won't you talk to me?" the red Rider demanded softly. He put his hands on either side of Eragon's head, effectively creating a cage with his body and the wall. He held Eragon's gaze evenly. "I know I've asked this before, but I'll ask again: are you ashamed of me?" 

"Let me go," Eragon's voice was flat and cold, but there was a slight tremble in it, as though the blue Rider was choking back a flood of emotions. What emotions, Murtagh was not certain, but the desire to know sang through his blood. 

"Are you?" Murtagh demanded. "I know I'm 'not a brother' to you, but what did you mean by that?" He pushed forward. "Tell me."

The hope that rose within him at the mere memory of those words was almost shocking in its intensity. If Eragon had meant what the red Rider suspected he did… if such a thing was possible… "Murtagh…" 

_Warm hand in his._

"_Stay…?"_

_Soft brush of sweet lips._

"_I-"_

Eragon seemed too choked up to speak, breathing slightly ragged. He tried to pull away from his brother, but the door merely creaked behind him and wouldn't let him draw back. 

"Nothing," he replied, breaking the stare and pushing against Murtagh with his arms. "Let me go." 

"No. Not until you answer me." 

Eragon gave a small cry of frustration and tried to physically shove Murtagh away, but the red Rider was taller and bigger than his brother. 

"Then I'll ask you a different question, since you won't answer that one." Taking a deep breath, Murtagh tried to calm his racing heart. While he had never really expected a response to his first question, his next inquiry was the one he had wanted to make since that day in the dungeons. 

"Do you love me?" he whispered in Eragon's ear. The effect was instantaneous. 

With a choked gasp, the blue Rider froze. The move was so sudden and complete it was as if he had turned to stone. Concerned, Murtagh pulled back just enough to see Eragon's face. 

Emotions were at war on the smooth features, but they fought too fast and hard for Murtagh to identify any of them. He tried, but he barely caught glimpses of anger and longing before they were swept away by fear. 

So caught up in trying to figure out what Eragon was thinking, he had no time to react as his brother shoved him away. Caught off balance, this time the blue Rider's shove was successful; much to the dismay of the red Rider and the relief of the brunette.

Murtagh landed on his back, grunting as his body struck the hard ground of the passage.

He sat up quickly, wincing at the pain but pushing it away for the moment as he tried to concentrate on his brother. Now that he had finally cornered the other, to let him escape this far into the discussion was unthinkable. 

Murtagh looked up.

Eragon's face showed so much despair, anger, and fear Murtagh just wanted to bring his brother to his arms, to protect him and make him smile. Judging from Eragon's actions just a moment ago, however, embracing the blue Rider was a very bad idea at the moment. 

It took the red Rider several seconds to realize that Eragon was speaking. 

"- wrong, absolutely disgusting... it's not right. Men can't love other men- it's just not possible. It's sick, and it's wrong- I don't..." He could hear Eragon take a shuddering breath. "I hate you." 

It was as if he had just been struck by the mighty blow of a dwarf and then tossed from the top of Farthen Dur. Eragon's words echoed in his head, reverberating in the suddenly hollow cavity of Murtagh's chest. Only the almost inaudible waver in Eragon's voice allowed the red Rider the strength to stand. He clung to the strength that slight waver had given him even as he continued to listen to Eragon's hateful words.

Each utterance became increasingly more vicious and hurtful, but as the intensity with which the words were said rose, so did the pain lacing the blue Rider's voice as he spoke. 

Murtagh drew himself up to his full height and Eragon fell silent, eyes wide. 

"I think..." Murtagh replied slowly, voice thick with emotion. "- you're lying. Not only to me, but to yourself as well." 

Time seemed to stop. 

Both brothers were frozen in that moment, Murtagh only aware of how his heart thudded in his ears. If he was wrong, if Eragon was telling the truth- if Eragon truly believed even a tenth of what the brunette had said... Murtagh would break. The red Rider knew he was strong, but even the immensely powerful had weaknesses. He occupied a precarious ledge; the next words from his brother would either damn him to a hell of self-loathing, or transform his world into a paradise where he was free to show Eragon how much he truly loved the blue Rider.

Eragon was silent. The silence stretched, and at last the brunette opened his mouth to speak. 

"I'm not. It's wrong- everyone knows that." Eragon's voice wavered, uncertainty just as heavy in his voice as determination. The uncertainty, more than anything else, convinced Murtagh that his guess had been correct. 

"Tell me, Eragon," Murtagh moved forward again, this time being sure to grab his brother's hands so he couldn't be pushed away, "Who are you trying to convince? Yourself or me?" 

The blue Rider struggled for a moment against the grip, almost breaking the hold Murtagh had on him before the red Rider tightened his grasp. Eragon abruptly stopped struggling, leaning against the door with a hopeless look on his face. 

"You. I know what's wrong and what's right. You just don't get it!" Eragon's voice was passionately angry as he refused to meet Murtagh's gaze. "You're sick! Men don't love other men! It's absolutely sickening!" 

The red Rider breathed in deeply before replying, shutting his eyes tightly as Eragon's words drove through him like ice-cold daggers. Despite the pain Murtagh felt, the hollowness in the blue Rider's voice was a clear indicator that the brunette didn't fully believe what he was saying. Murtagh continued to draw strength from that uncertainty, hoping that he wasn't seriously misjudging the situation. 

"The only reason I can stand here right now and listen to you is because I know in my heart that you don't mean a word of it," he told Eragon, opening his eyes and keeping his voice soft and soothing. "I know you don't truly believe that either. Why are you so afraid?" 

"I already told you- I'm not afraid of anything!" 

Eragon would not meet his eyes. Murtagh sighed. 

"Fine then. I see I won't get anything else from you tonight. It seems our conversation is over." Murtagh stepped away from Eragon. The blue Rider seemed shocked, hands held up in front of his chest as though he expected his brother to come forward again. Eragon's arms were far too stiff to actually help block anything Murtagh might do, but it mattered little. 

"Know this, Eragon.Even though you think it's disgusting, and even though Alagaesia may despise such a relationship, it's not wrong," Murtagh continued quietly. "When you're ready, I'll be waiting." 

On impulse, he stepped forward for the last time, gently placing a hand on one of Eragon's so it wouldn't come up unexpectedly to strike him.

He leaned closer, hearing the brunette's breath hitch. Hazel eyes fastened on cotton-candy colored lips, and he leaned still closer. Of its own accord, his hand came up to cup the blue Rider's cheek softly.

The feeling of soft skin beneath his palm brought back memories, the simple nearness of Eragon's body easily reminding the red Rider of a very similar position he and his brother had been in just that morning. The only difference was that this time, the blue Rider was conscious.

_Welcoming mouth._

_Soft teasing._

_Temptation._

_A playful war to dominate the gentle, glorious contact._

The brunette wasn't moving, wide eyes fastened on Murtagh's face. If the red Rider pressed his advantage now, Eragon wouldn't resist. The pale man knew that he- for these precious few seconds- had a chance he wasn't likely to get again any time in the near future. Perhaps he would never have such a chance again, if Eragon clung to his beliefs that Murtagh's love for him was wrong.

This may be the last chance he had to find out if Eragon tasted wonderful.

He sighed, moving his attention from his brother's inviting lips and instead pressing a gentle kiss to Eragon's forehead. 

"I won't push. Goodnight, brother." Murtagh told him gently. He could see the confusion on Eragon's face- pure shock that had temporarily struck the blue Rider dumb. 

Reluctantly, Murtagh turned away. His hand lingered on Eragon's for a moment, wanting to prolong the contact for as long as he could before he finally dropped his hand and left down the dark passageway.

Behind him, there was only devastated silence.

Insert Line

Murtagh had just barely walked out of the dark hallway and took but a few steps before he heard the sound of running feet, unmistakably moving in his direction from where the feast was taking place.

He stopped, turning towards the noise, and waited. It wasn't long before he could make out a shadowy figure moving through the darkness towards him, and it took only a moment or two more to recognize the figure as the moonlight briefly illuminated the other.

Krin.

The teenager's face was livid, jaw set and eyes burning with rage as he ran up to Murtagh. The red Rider didn't move, waiting patiently and already resigned.

Krin stopped just before Murtagh, panting slightly from the run. He kept his eyes on the red Rider, mistrust shining in their depths.

There was only stony silence between them as Murtagh calmly waited for Krin to catch his breath and then reveal what the punishment was to be.

Nasuada had clearly told him that he was to keep a guard with him at all times, yet the first night he was allowed out he had run from his guard. There was certainly some form of punishment coming, but despite that Murtagh didn't regret his actions at all. Eragon would not have spoken as freely had the red Rider brought a guard with him. In any case, the matter was one between them only, not to be shared with anyone else.

The ghost of a smile passed over his lips, remembering how wonderfully close he had managed to get to Eragon. If he concentrated, he fancied he could still feel Eragon's skin beneath his lips.

He had been so close...

He sighed, the memory of the blue Rider's hate-filled words coming back to him. Much as they hurt, Murtagh knew in his heart that his brother hadn't meant it. For now Eragon may be able to convince himself that a relationship between them was wrong, but if the brunette had truly believed what he had been saying he would have used more than physical means to get away from Murtagh.

The blue Rider hadn't used magic at all. Somewhere, deep down, Eragon must have desired the same closeness Murtagh wanted for them. That hidden desire had prevented Eragon from using magic at all, even if the blue Rider himself was not conscious of it.

Krin's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts.

"Follow me, traitor."

Inwardly, Murtagh bristled at the command, but it wasn't as if he hadn't expected it. Wordlessly, he nodded.

Krin responded by intensifying his glare before turning away stiffly and walking back towards the distant bonfires of the feast.

Only the soft sound of their boots on the grass could be heard as they made their way back.

Insert Line

Much to the red Rider's surprise, Krin skirted the feast and headed for the castle with only a single, contemptuous glance behind him to see that Murtagh was following.

Krin lead the red Rider through the castle doors, the large entrance hall, and up several steps before the guard turned down a hallway. They had only traveled a little way down the hall before the green-eyed teenager stopped before a large door.

Krin knocked on it twice, movements stiff and angry. After knocking, he let his hands fall at his sides, shoulders tensed as he waited to be acknowledged.

"Let him in." Nasuada's voice was muffled by the door, but the coldness in her voice was clear.

Murtagh watched as Krin opened the door, walking through and pretending he didn't notice the two very muscular guards flanking Nasuada as she sat at a large desk.

Apprehension shot through him, brought on partially by the tension in the room and partly by his own uncertainty of what the punishment for running away from his guard would be.

The door shut loudly behind him. The quiet noise of feet shuffling followed the door, but otherwise not a sound was heard.

TBC…

A/N: Sorry, busy busy busy! Summer is finally here and summer will give me plenty of time to write!

Review Replies!

Dragongirl – Sorry for the cliffie! Unavoidable, I'm sorry to say… At least I got this out fairly quickly for only having half of it written?

Sakura evil twin of Sango – I hope this was quick enough! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!

Thebrunetteditz – Glad you're liking it! You had food poisoning? That must not be very fun… but at least you got an e-mail from 'a friend'! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Geek Squared 1307 – (wipes sweat off forehead) Phew- nothing sharp or pointy? Very good! Hopefully this chapter was worth waiting for… Anyway, I enjoy the Inheritance Trilogy too, but sometimes I just have more fun figuring out what went wrong because I can learn from it and try to make sure I'm not making some of the same mistakes. And don't worry about having a long review and expressing your opinion! If the inspiration hits, then by all means, please do! I'll try my hardest on finals!

Xokobio – I'll do my best! I tried to update as quick as I could!

asdfghjkl;'\ - Glad you enjoyed- and interesting name, by the way! Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter just as much!

Brandi N. Jones – (accepts the 'thwap'ing meekly and goes to sit in a corner) So glad you enjoyed! I tried! I pity you friend- going through Eldest? The only reason I finished that book was so I could write this and have my facts straight, though I did read the scene where Murtagh reappears several times before actually finishing the book… So you enjoyed the chase? I'm glad! I'm also really happy you liked the whole 'feast scene' bit, where Eragon had to move around people and Murtagh didn't have that obstacle. I thought it would be interesting! Hopefully this wait wasn't too long, and I'll do my best on my exams!

Alsdssg – Thank you! I know I'm evil- I enjoy my evilness! Mwahahaha! I hope this update was quick enough!

Kagemugen – Good points- and I hope I managed to address the second one in this chapter? Sometimes, when someone secretly wants something (like a secret to be known) they'll forget small things or they'll do things to get what they want, even if they're not entirely conscious of what they're doing. For example, if someone has a secret that they want to tell people about (an important secret pertaining only to the person that wants to tell) but they don't feel they can tell other people or in their mind they don't want to tell, then they'll try to keep it a secret but slip up occasionally. They'll actually indirectly mention their secret and hope someone asks what they mean so they can explain without really having to bring it up. It's the same for Eragon, really. He thinks he doesn't want Murtagh to catch up, but in his heart he actually does want Murtagh to catch up to him, and so he doesn't realize he could use magic. Hopefully that made some sort of sense… I'm glad you're enjoying this so far, and I'll do my best on finals!

ANGRYreviewer – I'm sorry! I hope this update was quick enough…?

Sirana – Hopefully this was a quick enough update so the cliffie isn't so mean? I hope the wait wasn't too terrible… and I'll do my best on my exams!

CaramelBoost – True! (And it's great to be hearing from you in e-mails again!) I hope this update was quick enough- so glad you enjoyed!

Ore no Naruto – You, my dear, are the first person to say you enjoyed the cliffie as a reader! Congrats! (huggles) And I'll do my best on my exams!

October Morning - Your poor arm! Those finals must have been killer- and all-nighters would suck. Even when I stay up all night (I've done that once or twice) I always take a nap or two the next day. I'm so glad you're enjoying this- the 'almost-kiss' scene was a favorite of mine too, though I think I like the beginning of this chapter better... Hopefully your life distracted you enough the you didn't notice it took me forever to update!

xDragonRiderx - Sorry! I hope this didn't take too long! I'll try to be quicker with the next chapter!

EmpyrealFantasy - Cliffie of DOOM! Mwahahahaha! Sorry about that- I tried to get this done as quick as I could! At least summer is here now! I have more time to devote to this now! Whee! Anyways, Eragon isn't terrible- it did entertain me too, else I wouldn't be writing this!- but I just think it's funny to see how fanfiction-like it is. Seriously! My friend made me read the book before he took me to see the movie, so I already knew the story. The movie wasn't awful, but it could have been done better... Ah well! Thank you for all the compliments too- I just hope I'm worthy! I'll do my best!

FangedWriter - Finals eating you too? At least it's not just me! And yes, sorry for the cliffie!

Peachie Bunni - Thanks! Glad you liked- hopefully this lived up to expectations!

Adi Sagestar - Do I get off with a light beating, or must I relinquish my liver? I'm sorry- I tried to update as quickly as I could!

Shadow of Darkness 22 - You read that part in English class? Good for you- better yet that you took out a notecard to express your feelings rather than scream. Sometimes I can't control my emotions over a book or at one of the scenes in a book, and I tend to get a lot of funny looks... You'd think the people at my school never saw someone skip around a classroom and hug everyone within arms reach for five minutes. Jeez! Normal is just relative, remember that- I hope I updated soon enough for you! (And sorry to hear about your computer troubles!)

mspadfoot2 - I'm sorry- I know I was being evil! Everyone's asking me when the slash will heat up- all I can really reply is 'soon'. It's slowly starting to, but I can guarentee that the slash will be in full force by the end of the story. (And if that's too long to wait... at least read to chapter 10. That scene will be FUN... but no spoilers. Won't say any more than that!)

shadow-seraph - Thank you SO much! I try my best, but... do you seriously think this is one of the best Eragon fics out there? (blush) It just makes me feel so special! I hope I managed to update quick enough for you!

Novicewriter - Thanks! I try! I also noticed that Eragon has little to no slash to speak of, so I had to write this. I might check out your story, but I'm probably going to concentrate on 'In Dreams' so I can get more of it written for everyone.

Raki505 - You have no idea how much I love you at the moment. Being an author has always been my dream, so hearing I have some talent gives me quite a bit of hope for my future career! (I haven't picked a back-up job yet, and I'm going to be starting my junior year of highschool in the fall... Yikes!) I hope I updated quick enough!

hogo-chan - Thank you! Makes me feel special! I hope I updated soon enough!

TheSari - You do better than I do- I usually read a story only if it's complete and then not review. Bad habit, I know... but I usually just want to read, read, read! I'm so glad you like the story- and yes, I do like Eragon, but I laugh at how fanfiction-y it is!

Du Shurtugalar Freohr - Thanks! I loved your review- makes me smile every time I read it! (blush) You're making me all embarrassed... really, scores of 9 out of 10 and 15 out of 10? Must be doing something right!

PeachyStone - All the compliments just make me so embarrassed! Really, this is just a little hobby of mine... Thanks for complimenting me, but careful not to let my ego get too big! So glad you enjoyed 'Only By Moonlight'- I was outside under the moonlight for a bit too long, methinks...

sussiekitten - (cries) You make me feel so special! (hugs) I try, but just hearing everything from all my readers makes this more than worth my time- now all I'm worried about is living up to everyone's expectations! I hope you enjoyed!

... - I wish I could get this published! You made me feel so special- go me! I try! I hope you continue to enjoy!

thehappyrain - I'm so glad! I know that stories where the main characters get together in the first three chapters are basically a dime a dozen, and while there are lots of good stories in which the characters get together quickly, the best stories are usually ones that have them fight to get together... I hope that made sense! For the record, welcome to the fandom! Happy to have you! (hugs) Hope you enjoy the story!

Ereshkigali - Sorry! I didn't mean to leave you hanging for so long! I know EraMur is hard to find, especially chaptered EraMur fics! I saw that same problem, and so this was born! I'm glad you like my OCs, as original characters can be really hard to pull of convincingly most of the time... most OCs end up being Mary Sues! (shudder) I'm trying to be careful and keep the main characters in the spotlight- hopefully I'm succeeding! I'm glad I'm mostly keeping Eragon and Murtagh IC as well! Sorry for depriving you of sleep! I'll try to update quickly!

bon35bonk3r5 - I hope this update was quick enough! I did my best!

Supernatural GilmoreGirls - Was this quick enough? Glad you're enjoying it!


	21. Traitor

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

Note: Some of you may have already known this, but I have decided to send review replies via the handy Review Reply button from now on. For those of you who don't have an account on this site or who weren't signed in, your review replies will still be at the end of the chapter! My main reason for this switch? There are simply too many reviews to put the reply to all of them at the end of the chapter, which is a problem I do not mind having in the least! (To give you an idea… I just finished writing 60 review replies. We can all be just as surprised as the authoress now, since she never expected to get so many reviews for one post, especially since she knows she was a cruel and evil person for leaving all her readers with a cliffhanger-type ending for three weeks. She apologizes with her whole heart and soul and promises not to let it happen again.)

So, please enjoy everyone! Hope this was worth waiting 3 weeks! (fingers crossed)

In Dreams VIII, Part D

For a moment, there was only silence. The young leader of the Varden met Murtagh's eyes.

"Come forward, Murtagh." she commanded quietly. Murtagh did as he was bid. "I was informed a half hour ago by Krin that you ran from your guard, after I had given you orders that you were to keep a guard with you at all times. Was there a reason for that?"

Murtagh nodded once.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"I'm sorry." The red Rider looked away from Nasuada in clear refusal.

"If there was a good, compelling reason for your leaving Krin, then your punishment might be lessened. Unless you tell me your reasons, I'll be forced to assume the worst."

Nasuada's voice was still cold, but there was a slight trace of compassion in her tone.

"I'm sorry." Murtagh repeated. "It's a private matter. I can't-"

"You're a traitor and on probation. You have no 'private matters' that cannot be spoken of to Lady Nasuada!" one of the guards snarled, his beefy hand moving to the sword belted at his waist.

Nasuada held up her hand, quietly and authoritatively commanding the guard to stop.

The guard paused, then moved his hand back to his side. He still glared fiercely at Murtagh, as though daring the Rider to try anything while the guard was in the room.

"Then I have no choice. Krin-" Nasuada looked passed Murtagh, over his left shoulder. "-I want you to return Za'roc to the armory."

"I'll do it tonight." the teenager replied, vicious satisfaction coloring his voice. Murtagh felt a pang of loss for his sword, but he knew it was only to be expected. He had as good as told them he was untrustworthy by running from Krin to chase Eragon and such consequences were expected. It wasn't as if he could beg off being punished by saying he was with the blue Rider. That would lead to too many questions about why he had decided to seek out his brother in the first place, which would lead to a question of why Eragon was avoiding him, and so forth.

Nasuada continued.

"Trianna-" The Varden's leader was now glancing behind Murtagh to the right. Surprised, Murtagh turned to see the female magician standing in one of the dark corners of the room.

He hadn't noticed her presence at all, and if she was here, then...

"Yes, My Lady?" Trianna practically purred, smiling triumphantly at the red Rider. Murtagh didn't even need to listen to know what was coming next, and his heart sank.

"Bind his magic."

"With pleasure, My Lady." Trianna stepped away from the wall, moving to stand directly in front of Murtagh.

A familiar pink glow enveloped her hand and she placed her palm over his chest. The red Rider gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming as Trianna spoke the words to seal his magic once more.

"Malthinae vanyali."

The cold burn of Trianna's magic quickly spread through Murtagh, just as painful as the first time she had performed the spell on him. The magic twisted through him, locking the red Rider's magic behind an unbreakable wall.

He clenched his jaw, ignoring the pain.

Finally, minutes later, Trianna was finished. She stepped away from Murtagh, nodding respectfully to Nasuada before turning and walking out of the room.

"Murtagh."

The red Rider turned back to the young leader, face carefully neutral and not betraying the pain he could still feel coursing through his body from the sealing magic.

"I don't give out many chances. This is your last chance. Do you understand?"

Murtagh nodded.

Nasuada studied him for a moment more, then dismissed him to go back to his room with Krin following closely behind.

Insert Line

The silence between the teenager and the Rider was stiff and tense. Murtagh could feel Krin's eye boring holes into his back, alert for any untoward or suspicious movements.

The walk back to Murtagh's room seemed to take longer than the red Rider remembered, but it may have just been the unfriendly presence behind him.

He nearly stumbled as an unexpected foot connected with his heel. Straightening, he glanced backwards to meet cold green eyes.

"Walk faster." Krin commanded flatly, kicking Murtagh's other heel. "We don't have all night to get back."

Murtagh briefly considered responding, but that wouldn't help his situation any. He mentally sighed and faced forward again, but didn't move any faster.

Krin kicked him again.

"Move."

Murtagh ignored the demand, the entrance to his room now in sight. He winced slightly as he paused to turn in front of the open door, Krin's foot connecting harder just a bit higher on his leg.

He walked into his room, noticing everything was just as he had left it. His eyes landed on Za'roc, and he had taken two steps towards the sword when a hand shot out and grabbed his cloak from behind.

"You're not allowed to touch it anymore." Krin said triumphantly, yanking the red Rider back by the cloak and walking passed him to pick up the weapon. He held it as though it was something disgusting, holding it lightly in his hands.

Murtagh looked away, unfastening his cloak and hanging it on the peg by the door. He could feel Krin's eyes watching him again before he turned around, but he ignored the glare.

The red Rider moved towards his bed, laying down on the flat surface and folding his arms behind his head. Krin remained silent, watching him, and Murtagh didn't speak.

The silence thickened and quickly became suffocating and oppressive. Cloth rustled as Krin shifted slightly, then the guard 'hmph'd and walked over to the wall opposite Murtagh's bed and sat, facing the red Rider.

The silence dragged on for several more minutes, and finally Murtagh broke it.

"Aren't you going to leave? You have to return that to the armory, don't you?" Murtagh asked neutrally, turning just his head and nodding slightly to indicate Za'roc. Krin snarled in response.

"It can wait until the next guard comes by. I'm not letting you anywhere near the armory and I'm not leaving you here by yourself."

Krin's voice was filled with a venom the red Rider hadn't heard since he was first imprisoned by the Varden.

It was only to be expected though, Murtagh thought as he turned his head to stare at the ceiling. What little trust and respect he had earned from the green-eyed boy had been shattered when he ran after his brother. It was almost funny how he hadn't realized the progress he had made until all his work had been undone.

Even with all the setbacks and the reinstatement of the no weapons and no magic policy, he wouldn't have done anything differently. Given the chance to repeat tonight, it would have gone the exact same way.

A small, secret smile played over his lips as he recalled the finer points of his conversation with his brother.

If only he had more time with the blue Rider... if only Eragon would stop being so stubborn and just accept it...

But what if Eragon really did believe that love between them was wrong and disgusting?

'"Men can't love other men- it's just not possible. It's sick, and it's wrong -"'

His smile faded as the words rang in his head. He had been so certain earlier that Eragon hadn't truly meant a single hateful word, but what if he was fooling himself because the red Rider wanted to believe he had a chance? If he was seeing something that wasn't truly there...

'"I hate you."'

He swallowed, mentally shaking himself.

Those words, at least, were a lie. If the blue Rider really hated him, then why save him from execution in the first place? Why go through all the trouble of freeing him from Galbatorix's hold?

Perhaps the reason was simply their newly-discovered family tie, but if that was the case...

'"You're not a brother to me."'

And most importantly...

Eragon hadn't resisted.

Murtagh barely fought the urge to put a finger to his lips, still aware of the two green eyes staring at him hatefully.

The red Rider had been so close, so temptingly close... he was certain Eragon could have pushed him away, but for that moment Eragon had not resisted him at all.

Soft warmth spread through him at the memory, recalling just how wonderful it was to be able to feel Eragon so close...

Murtagh wasn't aware his smile had returned until Krin's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What are you smiling about?" the teen demanded, scowling as he tightened his grip on Za'roc.

"Nothing." Murtagh replied evenly. He didn't look at the other teen, slightly annoyed at having been taken from his memories.

"Like I'll believe that." Krin muttered. From the corner of his eye, Murtagh could see Krin open his mouth again to speak when a knock on the doorframe interrupted them.

Curious and a bit confused, the red Rider pushed himself into a sitting position to see who was at the door. The shuffling of cloth against stone informed him that Krin was now standing, but he didn't glance over to confirm.

"Eruka?" he heard Krin ask, confused. "What are you doing here? I didn't think the guard was supposed to change for another hour-"

"Nasuada has asked me to come early. You've been doing a good job and deserve a break, so I will stand guard." Eruka replied smoothly with an odd grin decorating his features. The guard's voice sent shivers up Murtagh's spine, the same dull sparks of recognition he always felt around the man growing stronger. He knew this man, but from where?

The memory was just barely out of his reach...

"Lady Nasuada sent you?" Krin asked, suspicion suddenly lacing his tone. The teenager took a tiny step back from Eruka, tossing Za'roc gently aside as his hand drifted towards his own sword. The noise Za'roc made while hitting the ground sounded oddly loud in the tense air, and Murtagh barely resisted shooting an annoyed look at Krin for treating the weapon like that.

There was an extra emphasis on Nasuada's title when Krin spoke, and the red Rider couldn't figure out why until he realized the omission in Eruka's sentence.

Eruka didn't respond, instead turning to shut the door. The click of the lock sent alarm bells ringing through Murtagh's head and he pushed himself to his feet, studying Eruka warily.

The older guard turned back and regarded the two others in the small room calmly.

"I had hoped I'd be able to hide a bit longer, but I can't take that risk now that your memory might return. My King will be most pleased when I return with his favorite servant back under his control, especially now that he is getting ready to strike." Eruka told them conversationally, an oily smile that did not suit him stretching his lips. "Very pleased."

Realization dawned on Murtagh and Krin at the same moment.

"Your... King?" Krin asked, grabbing his sword with a suddenly shaking hand. Shock was naked on his face for a bare moment before anger overrode the emotion. "Then- You're-!"

Murtagh emotion's mirrored Krin's and the red Rider took a few steps forward to stand beside the teen with a cold look on his face. Krin shifted away, but the red Rider ignored it. His memory was returning now, but slowly. Still, he could piece together enough and recall enough to know where this man had come from- where Murtagh had seen him.

In Galbatorix's castle.

"One of Galbatorix's men, aren't you? You're how he knew to attack that castle the Varden were at- isn't that right?" Murtagh demanded, the question rhetorical.

Eruka nodded anyway, seemingly unbothered by the deduction.

"Correct. I guess you haven't fully remembered yet, boy, but with those fools feasting outside, now is the best time to make my move." Eruka turned a pitying gaze upon Krin. "You should have left when I told you."

Something was nagging at the back of Murtagh's mind like a particularly persistent itch- there was something important he couldn't quite recall about the man before him, but what? Something crucial… A feeling in his gut warning him that there was more to the situation…

He scoured his memory, but it eluded him, dancing just beyond his reach and slipping through his fingers.

"Your move?" Krin demanded, pointedly ignoring Eruka's last sentence and drawing his sword. He held it steadily, business end aimed at the man. "I don't think so. I'm going to stop you right here. I don't care what you think you'll do, I won't let you."

Eruka chuckled mirthlessly. More sparks of memory ignited in the red Rider's mind, but there was still something missing…

"What do you think you can do? Especially against me..."

Slowly, Eruka's hand came up, palm facing outward. Krin's confusion was almost palpable, but the action lent the last spark needed to trigger Murtagh's memory.

Shock hit him hard as words hidden in his memory rapidly began to surface, Eruka's voice ringing through his head.

'"He won't remember anything if he drinks this, King Galbatorix-"'

'"Malthinae-"'

'"The ritual will definitely be a success-"'

'"I shall be more than enough help to perform the rite, Your Majesty-"'

'"My King, it worked. The boy is now yours to control-"'

Hazel eyes widened as the faintest, familiar white glow began around Eruka's fingertips. Murtagh quickly turned his focus to Krin, mouth open to warn the teen. He heard Eruka's amused chuckle as he turned, the spy having apparently noticed Murtagh's realization.

Keeping an eye on the steadily brightening white glow, the red Rider spoke.

"Krin, listen to me-" Murtagh said, not bothering to keep his voice down as Eruka would hear anyway- the quarters were too close to allow whispering. Besides, it hardly mattered that the old 'guard' knew that Murtagh remembered. The red Rider wasn't going to be Eruka's first target- the traitor wanted him alive. Krin, however, wasn't so lucky, the teen being expendable in the eyes of Galbatorix.

He kept one eye on Eruka as he spoke, not liking the cocky grin the other man was now sporting. Murtagh grabbed Krin's arm, but the green-eyed teen pulled away with a jerk.

"Don't touch me." Krin snarled, turning his head to face Murtagh for one crucial second.

In that moment, Eruka acted.

"Jierda. Malthinae stenr." Words of the Ancient Language- magic- poured from the spy.

The sorcerer.

White flashed through the room for a split second, Krin just having enough time to turn back to Eruka and see the blast of white-colored magic racing towards him. Krin was hit square in the chest and several inches into the air before being stopped by the solid stone wall.

Murtagh watched, stunned, as the stone around Krin shifted and changed, slithering over the dazed teen like snakes and solidifying only after stretching over the dark-haired boy's body to bind him quite firmly to the wall.

It took Krin several more moments to come out of his daze, blinking stupidly at the restraints before finally beginning to struggle to free himself.

It was a lost cause, and after another minute, Krin stopped to glare hatefully at Eruka.

"You bastard!"

"Hljödhr." Eruka replied neutrally. Krin's mouth opened again, but no sound came out.

The red Rider turned his attention back to the sorcerer, one eye scanning the floor for Za'roc to judge his chances of grabbing the sword before being hit with a blast of powerful magic.

He spied the familiar sheath just beyond his reach and he glanced between the weapon and his opponent. Without magic, Za'roc was his best bet of subduing Eruka and hopefully turning him over to Nasuada for her judgement. Hand to hand was out, as Eruka would have no qualms about using his magic against the currently magic-less Rider.

Murtagh knew he was decently fast, but in such close quarters it would be a near thing. His eyes darted from Eruka to Za'roc, then quickly back as he made some quick mental calculations.

He would probably be able to pick up Za'roc before Eruka got a shot off. Probably. He tensed his muscles, preparing to lunge for the sword with one eye on Eruka.

Surprisingly, the spy's aim wasn't trained on the Rider, even though Eruka was staring directly at Murtagh.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the sorcerer's plan.

"I wouldn't go for the sword." Eruka warned him. "Make one move towards it, Rider, and I'll make his death hurt. If you do as I tell you, I'll make his death quick. If I decide that you've done a particularly good job with following my orders, I might let him walk out of here just a few memories light."

Hazel eyes shot back to Krin, green eyes meeting his furiously as blame was placed heavily on the Rider's shoulders. Behind that anger, however, Murtagh could see fear creeping in and taking root.

Krin may not have been Murtagh's favorite person, but he couldn't just disregard the teen's life. He had taken more than enough from the other already, however indirectly. There was enough Varden blood on his hands, and even if he did use the second it would take Eruka to kill Krin to attack the spy, how would he explain what had happened to Nasuada?

To Eragon?

Eruka would have to move his arm eventually, or at the very least his focus would shift. That second would be all Murtagh needed, and until he had that opening it would be easy enough to pretend to go along with what he was told.

He just had to make sure that he would have an opening before something irreversible happened.

"Fine."

TBC…

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed! I will try to get the next chapter out on time… really, really sorry if this chapter was disappointing, but I tried?

Ancient Language:

Malthinae- 'bind'

Jierda- 'break' or 'hit'

Malthinae stenr- 'bind' and 'stone', or 'stone bind'

Hljödhr- 'silent'

Reviews Replies for Everyone Without An Account Or Was Not Signed In (Henceforth this section shall simply be termed Review Replies)

Sirana – So sorry I haven't updated in three weeks! Unintentional, I assure you. So glad you enjoyed, and very glad to know you could 'see' the scene in your head. That means I did it right! Stories with that level of description are always better because you can 'see' the action instead of simply reading it. Again, sorry I haven't updated in forever- did the chapter make up for that, at least a little?

Novicewriter – Aw, shucks. Thanks- so glad you enjoyed! I wish more people wrote slash too, but… ah well, at least there are some pretty decent EraMur slash fics out there! I'm sorry about not updating for three weeks!

Xokobio – Glad you liked! A lot of people have threatened Eragon with bodily harm, oddly enough. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing- I'm very sorry about not posting for three weeks, but I promise that won't happen again.

Pantherontherun – Happy you enjoyed! I'm sorry about not updating quickly, but I don't think such a wait will be necessary for next chapter!

Alouette Vladislova – First off, cool name! Can't say I ever heard anything like it, but it's interesting because of that! You have a good point, by the way, a very good point… still, Eragon wasn't exactly keeping an eye on Murtagh, and how was Nasuada to know that Murtagh was with Eragon when Murtagh won't admit to it? Krin may have seen them both leave at the same time, but that doesn't mean they were together. Still, very interesting and thought-provoking point! I see I must be on my toes… Thank you so much- very, VERY happy you're enjoying the story, and very, VERY sorry I haven't updated in 3 weeks.


	22. Disbelief

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: I hope this is worth a read… Enjoy?

In Dreams VIII, Part E

"Fine." Murtagh responded flatly, relaxing his tensed muscles. "What do you want me to do?"

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it couldn't be helped. Murtagh could feel the weight of Krin's betrayed and scared gaze upon his back, but that reaction had been expected. Even though he had no intention of going back with Eruka, his ruse would be that much more effective with Krin believing Murtagh was betraying the Varden.

Eruka smirked at the red Rider's apparent submission.

With his free hand, he reached into a leather pouch hanging from his belt with one eye trained on Murtagh. The Rider watched Eruka's other arm, hoping for an opening, but the spy's aim didn't waver.

There was still time- there was no way Eruka would be able to redo the ritual by himself, so all Murtagh had to do was act before Eruka was able to finish whatever it was he had planned.

The moment passed. Eruka drew out a medium-sized flask from the pouch- the kind usually used to store alcohol. He turned his gaze fully to the red Rider.

He held out the leather flask to Murtagh. Confusion was visible in hazel eyes for a moment, but Murtagh quickly masked the emotion.

"Drink this." Eruka's words were rushed, excited. Ignoring his misgivings the red Rider stepped forward and accepted the flask. It was heavier than he had expected- probably full.

Feeling Eruka's stare, he quickly pulled out the stopper. It took some tugging, but finally came free with a quiet 'pop' that seemed too loud to Murtagh. He tossed the stopper aside, then he hesitated.

"Drink it, Rider." Eruka commanded, the hand aimed at Krin beginning to glow softly white.

Slowly, Murtagh brought the mouth of the flask to his lips. Before he could stop himself- and thus endanger Krin further- he quickly poured the flask's contents into his mouth and swallowed.

The liquid burned all the way down his throat, making his eyes water. It didn't burn like alcohol, but instead felt like someone had started an actual fire in his body. His stomach churned, trying to reject the substance, but Murtagh fought the reaction down.

He could feel the fire spread to his whole body, as though searching for something. He dropped to his knees, shutting his eyes against the pain. He could hear the flask hit the ground next to him, but the sound was barely audible over the crackle of flames in his ears.

Far above him, he could hear Eruka laugh.

"That was too easy, boy! I expected at least a little resistance, but..." Murtagh tried to make sense of the words, opening his eyes and glancing up, but looking at Eruka didn't seem to give the words any more meaning.

The fire within him writhed, and Murtagh could feel his body convulse as he tried to reject the liquid that had brought the flames. It was painful, and the fire didn't seem to be subsiding anytime soon. Fingers of flames seemed to travel through him, searching for something.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was so dry and the words died.

"You should be feelings the potions effects momentarily. It's a useful little concoction that will temporarily fix the binding spell those fools thought they broke. They should have known such a powerful spell leaves residue, and that residue can be used..." Eruka cut himself off. "Well, it should be more than enough to get you back to Uru'baen so we can redo the spell properly. I doubt the Varden will survive the next battle, but with you back under King Galbatorix's thumb like a good little toy, there should be no problems."

Eruka nodded to himself, smiling.

"My King will be most pleased with me..." His eyes glazed over, no doubt imagining the rewards he would be receiving for this feat.

Murtagh could feel his eyes widen. If the potion was truly that powerful...

If that was truly what the potion did...

... then he was too late. This was 'checkmate', not 'check'. While he had been watching for an opening, his time to resist had come and gone.

His gaze dropped back to the floor, shaking as the fire of the potion continued to rage through him. Even more painful than the potion itself was the crushing despair he knew he would feel once the physical pain wore off.

He had been free for less than a day, and now about to be bound again to a man he despised.

The thought alone made him shudder and his body turn cold. So cold it burned...

Just like Trianna's magic.

Hazel eyes opened slowly, the coldness flooding his body welcome after the intense fire of Eruka's magic. In moments the cold burn would hurt, he knew, but for the moment his mind was clear.

Just enough time for a memory to surface.

Flashback

"Ethgri vanyali kopa," Svara intoned clearly. The magic suddenly washed over Murtagh, cool and impersonal. The green glow moved over his skin, and he could feel it move as though the magic itself was alive- it moved with the precision of a surgical tool in the hands of a master, sliding over his skin as though searching for something.

He felt the cool light slide over his chest, suddenly concentrating over his sternum. The mint green of the glow brightened, and Murtagh could feel it begin to move into his body.

Suddenly, the magic hit something like a wall just beneath his skin. Murtagh choked, the contact almost as harsh as a punch would have been to the same area. He screwed his eyes shut as the pain intensified, jerking himself back from the soft hands still on his face.

Instantly, the green ball of energy and magic stopped pressing down on his chest, bursting and dissipating into the air.

The pain slowly fading, Murtagh looked over to the other side of his cell.

Svara was looking at her palms, a grimace of pain on her face. Instantly, Kyrin knelt beside her and gently pulled her hands towards him, looking over her apparently injured hands.

"What happened?" Vanir asked, sincere confusion evident in his voice. He moved just behind Kyrin, looking over the other males' shoulder to see the damage.

Oromis moved forward as well, albeit more slowly that Vanir.

"Burns," Kyrin answered for Svara, covering her smaller hands with his own. "Waise heill," he murmured, a brown glow encircling his hands for a moment before sinking through and presumably into Svara's damaged flesh.

After a minute, Kyrin released her hands. Svara studied them again.

"What was that?" Arya asked. "What could have burned your hands?" She turned to Oromis. "Did you know this might happen?"

The old elf shook his head, bemused.

"This may have been an oversight on our part, but if Murtagh's magic was bound, that sealing spell may also keep other magic from going in. We'll need that spell removed, and from the damage Svara took I believe we need the original caster to remove the spell."

End Flashback

Somehow, Trianna's sealing spell had prevented the potion from working, the exact same way it had prevented Svara's magic from scanning him.

His gaze darted towards Eruka, but the man didn't seem to be in pain. For a moment, Murtagh wondered why, but then realized.

Svara had been touching him and her magic had formed a solid connection to Murtagh while she had cast. Eruka had created a potion, and the sealing magic hadn't hurt him because it saw the potion as the 'caster'.

He still had a chance to fight back, and his ace in the hole was that Eruka believed the potion would work.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. He could feel Trianna's magic move through him and neutralize the potion- a cold burn moving in towards his bones from his skin- but he gritted his teeth and carefully controlled himself not to react to the pain.

It was almost certain Eruka would drop his guard now, simply because the spy thought there were no more threats in the room.

Rather than his chance having passed, this provided the perfect opportunity.

Now standing, he turned his gaze to Eruka. He concentrated on keeping his expression bland, hoping to avoid alerting the spy to the fact that he was not being controlled.

"Excellent. The potion seems to be working, but to make sure of that I have a little test." Eruka indicated Krin with a nod of his head. "I want you to kill him before we leave."

Hazel eyes flicked to Eruka's raised arm, still poised to strike.

Murtagh kept his expression carefully blank, nodding stiffly once before turning towards the helpless teenager.

If he could just get between Krin and Eruka, the sealing spell should protect him from the spy's magic. All he had to do was be careful not to pass out from the pain. His lips almost quirked up at the thought.

He doubted Trianna knew what a service she had accidentally done him.

The female magician had no doubt believed only healing magic would have been cast upon him as few could have predicted that the spy inside of the Varden's ranks was such an able magic-user. With the seal in place, she had probably intended him to suffer fully from whatever injuries he might receive without the benefit of a magically-sped healing.

The thought caused a brief flicker of memory to stir in his mind, but he dismissed it quickly. It would be best to focus on the present, and he could revisit the memory later.

Murtagh glanced down at the floor, eyes quickly finding Za'roc again. He moved towards the sword, keeping one eye on Eruka. The spy seemed confident, but also just a bit cautious.

It didn't seem as though Eruka was worried that Murtagh might try something, but more worried about someone finding them. The red Rider could see Eruka's eyes occasionally shift towards the door, as if checking that the door was still locked.

Murtagh carefully maneuvered himself between Krin and the magician, watching the latter closely to see if Eruka noticed that the red Rider's body was now blocking that of the magician's hostage.

Eruka seemed oblivious to their positioning, more obviously focusing on the door now.

Murtagh bent down and picked Za'roc up, the sheath scraping softly against the ground. The slight noise seemed to draw Eruka's attention back to the situation at hand, and the spy visibly shook himself.

"Hurry up. Kill the brat and let's go."

The red Rider drew his sword in one fluid motion, dropping the empty sheath next to his feet. The tension in the room was thick and heavy, anticipation running through the air.

Murtagh glanced towards Krin, hazel meeting green. The emotions in the teens eyes were painfully easy to read, betrayal and fear chief among them. The guard's body sagged in the restraints, as though Krin couldn't be bothered to hold himself up anymore.

"What are you waiting for? Hurry up and kill him." Eruka demanded. Murtagh turned away from the resigned figure in stone bindings to face Eruka fully. Before the spy could question him further, he attacked.

His first strike cut deep into Eruka's bicep, the spy letting out a pained and startled cry before his hand instinctively moved towards the cut. Eruka stumbled back a step, hand pressed to the wound as though to stop the flow of blood.

Murtagh pressed forward, aiming his next strike for Eruka's other arm. It wouldn't do to kill the man, since any information that the spy had would die with him. If Murtagh could simply knock him out...

Eruka ducked the sideways slash, plowing forwards to headbutt Murtagh's midsection and knock the Rider back several steps. It took Murtagh a moment to recover his balance, and Eruka pressed forward and grabbed the front of Murtagh's shirt with his bloody hand.

"You... the potion... it didn't work?!" Eruka demanded, shaking the pale man. Instead of answering verbally, Murtagh brought Za'roc up and moved to slam the pommel on the magician's temple. Eruka ducked again, releasing his hold and stepping back.

Adapting to the change, Murtagh stepped forward and slashed sideways with Za'roc once more.

Eruka noticed the change in the blade's direction and darted forward, getting inside the range of the deadly edge of the weapon. He brought his good arm up, aiming a punch at the red Rider's face.

Murtagh jerked his head to the side, Eruka's fist barely grazing his cheek. He stepped back, trying to move Eruka back in range, but Eruka followed his movements. The spy stepped forward as Murtagh moved back, swinging his other fist towards the pale man's abdomen.

The blow hit hard, Murtagh doubling over in pain as the air in his lungs was forced out. Za'roc dropped from his suddenly slackened grip, clanging loudly on the stone floor. The next punch caught him across the face, knocking his head to the side as he tried to straighten up.

Eruka aimed an elbow at the base of Murtagh's skull, but the Rider jerked his head out of the way. Murtagh quickly returned with an elbow in Eruka's stomach, straightening up fully to kick the exact same area he had just hit. Grunting in pain, Eruka stumbled back a step or two before regaining his balance and coming back, fists swinging wildly.

Murtagh dodged each strike, the blows grazing him but not fully connecting. Eruka roared in frustration, aiming for the Rider's face.

Murtagh ducked, dropping to one knee and spinning, stretching his leg out to catch the back of Eruka's heels and knock him down. The magician fell with a loud 'thump', head banging against the wall and cursing as he struggled to regain his feet.

Not letting the opportunity he created go to waste, Murtagh quickly straddled Eruka's hips, pinning him down with his weight and seizing the spy's neck with both hands.

With his oxygen cut off, it wouldn't take long for Eruka to black out.

The spy struggled in his hold, trying and failing to knock Murtagh off. Eruka clawed at the hands constricting his airway, nails drawing small amount of blood where his frantic scratching broke the skin. Murtagh's grip remained firm, focused fully on his opponent.

Slowly, the resistance became weaker and slower. Eruka's eyes dulled slightly and they shuddered closed, slipping into unconsciousness.

The red Rider released the hold around the spy's neck, picking up one limp wrist in order to locate a pulse quickly.

Eruka's pulse was still strong.

Murtagh dropped the hand. Doubtless Eruka would have information the Varden would find valuable. All he needed to do now was-

Loud banging suddenly interrupted his thoughts. His head jerked towards the locked door, just in time to see it burst open and several people who Murtagh vaguely recognized as five members of the Varden storm in.

He watched as their eyes took in the scene- Eruka, unmoving on the floor. Krin, mute and imprisoned. Lastly, himself, very much conscious, free, and not terribly hurt. He saw their eyes settle firmly on him, mistrust and outright glee in some of their gazes as two men dropped their hands to their swords. The three without weapons dropped into fighting stances, preparing to attack.

It wasn't hard to guess what conclusions the men had jumped to, since the scene implied a very different version of the battle to someone that had not heard what Eruka had said and seen what the man had done.

Murtagh slowly stood, lifting his hands slowly in a placating manner.

"This isn't what it looks like. If you'll let me explain-" he started half-heartedly, knowing he had little to no chance of anyone hearing him out. It was worth a try anyway, even if he wouldn't be believed.

"There's nothing to hear. I knew it was a mistake to trust a traitor, and this proves it." the leader said excitedly, grinning wickedly to reveal several silver teeth. "With this, your execution is certain. If you'll come with us quietly..."

The man's tone was more a demand than a request, though Murtagh could see the desire for a fight gleam in the man's eyes. No doubt he wanted to be able to brag that he subdued the 'traitorous' red Rider.

Resigned, Murtagh nodded and ignored the disappointment in the leader's eyes. He needed to see Nasuada anyway and tell her about Eruka's betrayal- it couldn't be helped that he would be going to her in metaphorical chains. Fighting the men now would not help his case once he explained, and he was certain Eruka would do everything possible to discredit Murtagh's story.

The leader grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly, barking to two of the others to bring Eruka and fetch Trianna to free Krin. Murtagh ignored the noise, looking back at Krin.

The teenager was the only witness to what had happened in the room. Murtagh knew his story wasn't likely to be believed, as Eruka had been a part of the Varden for some time as a spy. Still, it had appeared that Eruka was a true member of the Varden, and Murtagh wasn't trusted by anyone with the possible exception of Eragon. Here, he was supposedly a traitor through and through, as well as the attacker in the short battle between himself and Eruka.

The truth would only be believed if Krin decided to tell what had actually happened. While Murtagh hoped the dark-haired teen would, it wasn't certain.

Krin hated him and wished him dead- or at least he had an hour ago. This was the perfect opportunity for Krin to see revenge for his parents, and after Murtagh was executed it would be easy to 'discover' that Eruka was the spy and alert Nasuada. Provided that Eruka didn't 'disappear', Krin could take the glory of the find and have the man he hated dead.

His eyes met green for a moment as he was shoved out of his room, shock clear in Krin's eyes along with other emotions Murtagh couldn't identify in the split second their eyes met.

He turned his gaze away from his room.

TBC…

A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed… and good news! I should be able to update again in a week, if all goes well! I promise I won't take forever, and I promise I won't abandon you guys. I love you all! Please spread the word about 'In Dreams' to any of your friends who enjoy slash!

Review Replies!

Xokobio – Glad you like! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Novicewriter – I hope this update was quick enough!

victory by grace – Don't feel bad about not reviewing- it's enough for me that you like the story! I feel more sorry for you- not having your own Internet is horrible. I'm so glad you liked the fact that Thorn helped Eragon! Lots of people liked that! AnimeCons are awesome- it's a pity you've never gone. (My suggestion- bring a digital camera, a few hundred dollars, and buy a ticket for all three days if you ever get the chance to go.) As for how explicit this will get… probably not very. I don't write beyond kissing and cuddling, really. Besides, a lemon just wouldn't really fit in this story. Most people were surprised by the fact that Eruka was the spy as well! Go me! I'm glad you liked!


	23. Trial

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: I was looking at all the chapters I've posted so far (and at the chapters yet to come. Fortunately for all of you who like this, there are many yet to come… Well, many by my standards!), and I got to thinking. I decided to leave this up to a vote- should I rename my chapters and give them actual titles, instead of simply naming the chapters 'Chapter 1', 'Chapter 5A', 'Chapter 8E'… Not really for any particular reason, but sometimes having named chapters can help a person remember which chapters they liked best, should they want to go back to them, and perhaps naming the chapters would be a bit less boring than the 'titles' they currently have.

So, if anyone would like me to give the chapters actual names, please tell me in your review.

Dedicated to ShamefulDesire for letting everyone on LiveJournal know In Dreams exists! Also dedicated to Shauna for betaing!

Before I let you go (assuming anyone is actually READING the Author's Note), I just want to say how exciting this all is for me. In Dreams has passed over the 200-page mark with this chapter (that's excluding all author's notes) and has well over 100 favorites and 100 alerts! In Dreams is in 4 different C2 communities and has 550 reviews. It has been recommended on LJ and has an icon made for it. And we're only almost halfway through! That just means a lot to me, so I'd like to thank each and every one of you who read this story! (huggles everyone)

I hope you enjoy!

In Dreams VIII, Part F

Murtagh was hustled to Nasuada's office, two men flanking him and the leader walking in front with a small spring in his step.

Other than the sound of footsteps, the hall was completely silent as they walked. This left Murtagh with no distraction but his own thoughts, most of which were focused on the upcoming 'trial'.

While he knew Nasuada would try to make a good and just decision, he couldn't help but feel apprehensive. After all, her 'just' decision would be based on what information she received and whose story seemed more credible.

He had betrayed them before- it wouldn't take much for Eruka to make them believe he had done so again.

He was broken out of his pessimistic thoughts when the men escorting him suddenly stopped in front of a very familiar door.

The red Rider could hear faint voices just beyond the door, but couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

The leader knocked.

Instantly, the muffled noises quieted. Moments later, the door opened a fraction of the way and a man slipped out.

He shut the door, craning his neck slightly to glare at the leader.

"Lady Nasuada is in a meeting. Unless this is urgent business-" the shorter man began.

"Oh, but it is." The leader made a sweeping motion, indicating Murtagh. "I believe I have found a traitor. He attacked his guards. I thought our Lady would like to know."

Murtagh could see the shorter man's eyes flick towards him for a moment, distrust seeping in before the man's features hardened.

"I see." he said. "In that case, most urgent business indeed. If you'll wait here a moment..."

His voice trailed off as he slipped back into the room, again only opening the door a fraction.

A few tense minutes passed as they waited in the hall, a light scraping sound reaching their ears from behind the closed door. Finally the wooden panel was fully opened. The leader immediately marched in, followed quickly by Murtagh and the two other Varden members.

The door shut quietly behind them.

The atmosphere inside the room held even more tension than the hallway had. Hazel eyes quickly scanned the room, mildly curious as to who Nasuada had been speaking to.

The elves that had helped him remove the spell Galbatorix had placed on him were seated in chairs pushed to the walls, leaving a large open space in the middle of the room. All five had uncomfortable stares leveled at him, though Arya's seemed to hold a trace amount of disappointment as well.

He ignored the staring and glanced towards Nasuada's desk, raising his eyes to meet hers.

The leader of the Varden was wearing the coldest stare he had ever seen her employ, disappointment and resignation also clear in her gaze.

"Murtagh." she stated in clipped tones. "I thought I made myself clear last time you were here."

The red Rider nodded.

"I did not expect to see you back here again for punishment, especially not so quickly."

"I didn't do anything wrong." Murtagh replied. At this, one of Nasuada's guards stepped forward.

"We were told that you attacked your guards. Lady Nasuada specifically forbid you from causing any harm to a member of the Varden-"

He was cut off by Nasuada's raised hand. The guard clenched his jaw shut and stepped backwards.

"Forgive me, my Lady." he muttered. Nasuada nodded, not turning her gaze from Murtagh.

"You are charged with an act of treason- attacking members of the Varden. In the interest of a fair trial, I am going to give you the chance to explain your side of the story after I talk to the men who captured you-" she nodded at the three men who had accompanied Murtagh. "- and the men you attacked."

Murtagh bit his tongue to keep from replying, instead nodding silently.

Nasuada looked towards the leader of the men who had brought him in.

"Please tell me what you saw."

The man dipped into a slight bow.

"Of course, my Lady. My men and-" He was interrupted by another knock on the door, pausing in his narrative as one of the men previously flanking the red Rider moved to open the door.

In stepped one of the men that had burst into Murtagh's room. On his back was the still unconscious Eruka.

Nasuada glanced between the unconscious man and the red Rider for a moment, coming to the obvious conclusion.

"Lay him down- careful with his head." she commanded. The man quickly complied as Nasuada turned her gaze to the silver-haired female elf. "Svara, please heal him so that he regains consciousness. We'll need his testimony."

Svara nodded, getting off her chair and moving to kneel beside Eruka, hands already glowing faintly green.

Murtagh pulled his eyes away, turning his attention back to the leader of the Varden as she motioned for the story to continue.

The leader cleared his throat and began again.

"My men and I were passing by one of the rooms when we heard the sound of a scuffle. When we broke into the room- for the door was locked- I saw one of his-"

He indicated Murtagh.

"- guards attached to the wall with the stone itself holding him there. I assume the lad was mute, because he wasn't yelling for help. I saw the other guard- him-"

He pointed to Eruka, who was beginning to show signs of stirring.

"-being pinned down by this man, and as you can see, unconscious. The red Rider, of course, seems relatively unharmed. We brought him straight to you."

Nasuada nodded, brows furrowed in consideration.

A loud moan broke the quiet.

Eruka was sitting up, one hand pressed to his neck with his mouth twisted in a grimace. Svara was next to him, looking at his face with a concerned expression.

"How much pain are you still in? Do you need further healing?" she asked softly. Eruka blinked in apparent surprise, glancing around the room. Murtagh could see the traitor's eyes flick from the red Rider to Nasuada, taking in the situation.

The red Rider knew he was the only one who caught the calculating expression that crossed Eruka's face just before it settled into a pained expression.

"Oh, I'm not in pain any more, but just the memory..." he said, shuddering. "I was just going to relieve Krin when I was suddenly attacked!"

"Can you tell us exactly what happened?" Nasuada asked. Eruka nodded.

"I was heading to relieve Krin- the boy has been guarding the traitorous Rider far more then he should have to, so I decided to show up early. I had just entered the room when I saw Krin held to the wall by some sort of magic. The stone of the wall itself held him in place."

Eruka was a good actor, Murtagh thought grimly, as he watched the reactions of the others in the room. The two men that had been flanking him moved closer, and he could feel the apprehensive tension radiating from their bodies. Arya kept her gaze focused on him, while the other three elves watched Eruka closely. Nasuada's expression was unreadable, but the other members of the Varden were obviously sympathizing with Murtagh's 'victim'.

"Krin called for me to help him, but then the Rider used more magic to mute the boy. He then picked up his sword and attacked me, giving me a cut on my arm." Eruka motioned to where the dried blood was still visible. "I fought back, of course, but he overpowered me and was choking me. He probably would have killed me if not interrupted."

Nasuada's eyes moved between them as Eruka finished, then spoke.

"I asked Trianna just a short time ago to reseal his magic. Murtagh shouldn't have been able to use it, yet you say he used it on Krin?"

Eruka opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Were Eruka any less of an actor, the red Rider was sure that he would have given himself away at this point.

The man's second try was more successful.

"He must have found some way to break it. The Riders have always been known for having extraordinary magic power, and this one has served Galbatorix. What if Galbatorix fed him power to help him break the spell and escape?"

Murtagh could hear the elves muttering, and it was not comforting to see Nasuada consider the man's words.

"Kyrin, Svara." she said eventually. Both elves stood, nodding respectfully.

"I want you two to take him-" she indicated the leader of the men who had captured Murtagh. "- and go back to Murtagh's room. Free Krin and bring him here. Have him show you the way."

The three muttered their assent and left.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Nasuada turned to Murtagh.

"Now, I want to hear from you. What happened tonight?"

The red Rider glanced towards Eruka, noticing the slight sheen of sweat on the other man's brow.

Hazel eyes flicked back to Nasuada, and he began his version of the night's events.

"Krin and I were in my room when Eruka came by. He said he had come to relieve Krin early, but was acting strange. Both Krin and I picked up on it. When Krin refused to leave, Eruka closed the door and attacked us with magic-"

"Magic?" Nasuada interrupted, sounding truly surprised. She glanced towards Eruka again, who, Murtagh noted happily, seemed to be even more nervous now.

Distractedly, Nasuada motioned for the red Rider to continue.

"He bound Krin to the wall and cast a spell to mute him. He was using Krin as a hostage so I would drink a potion he carried in- it was in a flask, I think it's still in my room." Murtagh could tell that not everyone believed him, but he could feel that the elves, at least, were listening intently.

"I didn't want him to kill Krin, so I drank it. It was extremely painful-" Murtagh had to fight a wince at the memory of the painful burning sensation. "- but the spell Trianna had used to seal my magic was stronger than the potion and that's what prevented it from working- it was designed to temporarily re-make the binding spell Galbatorix had used on me, using the remnants of the spell."

Nasuada seemed shocked as the ramifications of this bit of news hit her, but the red Rider continued on.

"I pretended it had worked so he would drop his guard enough for me to attack him. I moved between him and Krin so he didn't have a hostage, picked up Za'roc, and attacked. I had just managed to get Eruka unconscious when the door burst open and I was taken here."

There was a pregnant pause as his words soaked in to the rest of those in the room. Excited mutterings broke out among the elves, but Murtagh didn't concentrate enough to hear what they were saying.

"Re-make the spell that Galbatorix used?" Nasuada echoed. Murtagh nodded in confirmation.

"Yes. Eruka is the real traitor here- he's the one that betrayed your location at the castle to the King and the magician that helped bind me to Galbatorix's service in the first place."

The words caused an uproar, Eruka surging to his feet in an excellent performance of righteous anger and he seemed terribly affronted.

"How dare you accuse me of that!" he seethed, taking several steps towards Murtagh before being carefully restrained by one of Nasuada's muscular guards. Eruka kept struggling against the hold, shouting about the unfairness and mockery of Murtagh's claim, but eventually he calmed down.

All was quiet for a moment as all eyes turned to Nasuada. She sat silently, obviously thinking hard as her mind turned out each story.

"Before I pass judgement..." she said slowly. "- I'll need to hear from Krin. Unless either of you would like to confess to lying, the only way I can ensure fairness is to get another account from someone else."

Neither Murtagh nor Eruka responded, though the true traitor did seethe about the injustice of being under suspicion.

The red Rider was more confident about his chances of winning, but much still depended on Krin, and what sort of story he would tell. Murtagh could tell that the room was still divided on who to believe, since the two men guarding him had not moved as much as an inch since Eruka's story. Nasuada's two guards also seemed highly suspicious of his story, while the elves seemed to have the matter in careful consideration.

When he looked up, Arya had met his eyes with less wariness and seemed much more thoughtful than she had when he had first entered the room.

Nasuada, however, was an enigma. She appeared to be carefully considering both stories, but Murtagh couldn't tell whose tale she believed more.

Tension rose in the room as they waited for the final testimony- in the form of Krin- to arrive. The tension was so high, in fact, that when a knock came at the door, the red Rider was certain he felt one of his guards jump.

"Come in." Nasuada commanded.

The door opened. Three people had left the room minutes before and now... six people were entering?

Frowning, Murtagh quickly recounted.

Svara and Kyrin were in front, with Krin closely behind. Following him was the other man that had burst into his room, and behind him-

'Eragon?'

To say Murtagh was surprised to see his brother was an understatement, and he took a halting step towards the brunette on instinct before his arm was grabbed and he was pulled back by one of his guards.

Eragon avoided his eyes, quietly moving to stand behind Nasuada.

The blue Rider's face was downcast, trying to subtly avoid Murtagh's eyes. He shifted uncomfortably every few minutes, adjusting his clothes as though he could feel hazel eyes watching him intently.

Murtagh moved his gaze away from his brother as Nasuada spoke again.

"I need to hear your version of the events that transpired tonight before I make my final judgement." she told Krin. "Please start when you're ready."

The red Rider studied the teenager standing before Nasuada, noting that Krin stood alone. Glancing around, he saw that Kyrin and Svara had returned to their seats, and the man that had entered the room with them now stood next to his leader.

Hazel eyes returned to the teen guard, studying him closely to try and figure out exactly whose story Krin would support.

Murtagh was almost surprised when green eyes returned his gaze for a moment before Krin turned his attention back to the dark-skinned woman at the desk.

"There is a traitor here, and I definitely saw his true colors tonight." Krin said slowly, thinking carefully as he spoke. "I was in the room with Murtagh when Eruka came in and said he'd take over. I was suspicious since he had come early and he didn't use your title, Lady Nasuada."

Murtagh felt triumph bubbling in his chest as he shot a glance towards Eruka. Since all eyes were on Krin, they all missed the murderous look that crossed the traitor's face as Krin solemnly continued his story, point for point matching the one Murtagh had just told.

Hazel eyes continued watching Eruka, triumph fading as he watched the sorcerer. Eruka was slowly glancing around the room, studying the people for weaknesses and most likely judging his chances of escape.

Murtagh glanced from side to side.

The two men guarding him were frozen in what appeared to be shock, hanging on to Krin's every word.

"- he forced the Rider to drink this potion. I can't say for certain, but it seemed to hurt a lot. Murtagh dropped, and when he stood back up he seemed to be under Eruka's control, up until he picked up Za'roc-"

Murtagh felt his mouth go dry as the sorcerer's eyes landed firmly on Nasuada. Her eyes were fully focused on Krin, so she didn't notice Eruka lift his arm as white light grew in his palm.

Krin was still speaking, but the words were distant now. Murtagh's eyes jerked to the leader of the Varden, but she still wasn't watching.

He focused his attention back to Eruka, watching as the man's mouth opened to cast.

The red Rider leapt forward, barely hearing the surprised shouts of his 'guards' at the sudden movement. He tackled Eruka just as the man began speaking, cutting him off without more than a syllable of a doubtlessly deadly spell completed.

Eruka cried out in surprise and pain as the full body weight of the Rider slammed into him, falling backwards and hitting his head with a loud 'thud' on the ground. The air was forced from the traitor's lungs in a loud 'whoosh', and he wheezed as he tried to regain his breath.

Murtagh could hear the shocked reactions of the others in the room. He stood, pointing towards Eruka's still glowing hand.

"He was about to cast." he explained simply, looking pointedly at Nasuada.

"I see." she replied evenly, eyes hardening as she watched the wheezing sorcerer. "I think I have all the evidence I need to make my judgement." She leaned back in her chair as Eruka glared at her hatefully, still lacking the air needed to speak.

"Eruka, you are accused of traitorous acts against the Varden and lying to the leader of the Varden during trial. You are convicted. The punishment is death by axe. Your sentence will be carried out tomorrow morning and your magic sealed until then."

She nodded towards Kyrin. The elf stepped forward at her implied command, magic already gathering in his hands. Eruka tried to move away, but the other Varden members caught him and held him in place.

Murtagh looked away as Kyrin's hand touched Eruka's chest, listening to Nasuada as she spoke again.

"Rider Murtagh, you are also accused of traitorous acts against the Varden. You are cleared." She paused for a moment. "We seem to have misjudged you. For catching the traitor that cost many of the Varden their lives on the battlefield, and would have cost many more, you will have Za'roc restored to you. I will not repeal the binding on your magic since you plead guilty to running from your guards with no explainable reason."

Murtagh nodded, smiling a little at the thought of having his precious sword returned.

Even though it hadn't actually been taken to the armory, it had not sat well with him to be without his blade.

He could feel a pair of curious eyes on him. Looking up, he met Eragon's gaze.

As hazel met brown, Murtagh could feel Eragon's desire to look away, but something kept their eyes locked. The red Rider peered deeper into his brother's eyes, noting the confusion and conflict.

'So he didn't know I was punished for running off to speak with him.' Murtagh mused, but his smile never wavered. Perhaps the fact that the red Rider was quietly accepting his punishment would show Eragon exactly how serious he really was.

Nasuada's voice broke into his thoughts, and he tore his gaze away from Eragon's.

"Place Eruka in a cell. I'll arrange for the executioner and a witness to come collect him tomorrow morning. Place a guard on his cell as well." she ordered the men that had brought Murtagh to trial in the first place.

The men bowed slightly, accepting their task and dismissal from the room.

They filed out, two of them carrying the now-sealed Eruka. As one of them passed, he muttered a small 'sorry' to Murtagh.

The sincere apology was unexpectedly heartwarming. Perhaps not everyone in the Varden hated him.

As the door, shut, Nasuada spoke again.

"This is just a precaution, but in order to ensure that the potion didn't work we'll need to check you. Several days ago, Svara mentioned to me that checking your magic is the easiest way to see what has a hold on you. Krin-" The teen straightened up slightly. "- I need you to find Trianna so she can undo the sealing spell."

Krin nodded and turned to go, but Murtagh interrupted.

"Magic has worked on me once before when I was under the effects of the spell." he said quickly. "It's possible for him to check my magic without removing the spell."

Even though Murtagh did not quite understand how Eragon's magic had worked on him before, that night in the wooden cage, the fact that it had worked would hopefully mean that Nasuada would ask Eragon to check his magic. When Svara had checked days ago, she had needed to touch him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Eragon's eyes widen in realization, no doubt his mind remembering the occasion Murtagh had mentioned.

Svara spoke up instantly.

"That shouldn't be possible. The sealing spell Trianna cast on you was still intact when I tried to scan you days ago. The only way for magic to work is to overpower the seal, in which case it would break, or if..." Her voice trailed off in realization. "Oh."

"Or if a blood relative is the caster." Arya finished, glancing at Eragon. "The magical signature for each person is different. Seals are twofold- one part blocks the signature of the person being sealed, while the other blocks all foreign signatures. With blood relations, however, the signature is too similar to be foreign, yet too foreign to be the sealed person's own magic, and thus slips through the seal."

Arya smiled fondly. Murtagh could feel a smile of his own slowly forming.

"There was a fascinating study conducted by the elves many years ago on the subject of blood relatives and magical signatures, but most magicians studying currently have forgotten it. It rarely comes up, since magic is so rare now one family rarely turns out two full-fledged magic-users, but..."

Nasuada nodded thoughtfully, and the red Rider couldn't help but feel triumphant. He had no idea why Eragon had shown up at his 'trial', but the circumstances could not have been more in his favor. Nasuada would see that the most logical course of action would be for the blue Rider to check Murtagh's magic, and Eragon could hardly refuse without a very good excuse.

Since Eragon was also being forced to face him now, it made it less likely that the blue Rider would try running away and hiding from the red Rider. Not that it would work, now that Murtagh was able to move, but things would be much simpler if Eragon didn't try running.

"That makes sense. In that case Krin, please wait outside to escort Murtagh back to his room. I apologize, but you will have to devise a way to split watching Murtagh with Samil until I can find a replacement for Eruka." Nasuada said, breaking the red Rider out of his thoughts.

Murtagh's mind brought up the image of his scarred guard with a missing eye. The man had never really talked to Murtagh while guarding him- when the man actually did guard him, instead of forcing Krin into it- so he had never known the man's name. It wasn't that important anyway.

Krin bent slightly at the waist, then he, too, left.

Nasuada turned to Eragon.

"Eragon, since your magic will work, please check Murtagh and see if the potion Eruka created was successful, or had any kind of effect on him."

TBC…

A/N: And here is where I must leave it for now. Don't worry, I shall update as soon as I can! I'm going to be gone from Monday to Saturday, and then I'll take a few hours to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (insert fangirl squeal), but I promise I shall have the next chapter up ASAP! That next part will be the end of Chapter 8- moving on to Chapter 9 after that! (Finally, back to Eragon… Murtagh decided he wanted more screen time, so he took it with the longest chapter yet written, though I must say that 15 (an Eragon chapter) will definitely trump all in terms of length…)

And for all those wondering when the slash will be here… hold your horses! It's coming- fear not, dear readers! The slash is like a bird, slowly circling closer… and closer… and it will not be at the end of the story. While the story has quite a ways to go, the physical slash is much, much closer than the end is!

Review Replies!

Novicewriter – Aw, thanks! I'm glad you like this so much!

Xokobio – I don't think I'll ever give up on this story- I will see it through to the end! Promise!

… - I promise that the slash will come soon! Just hang on a bit longer, and patience will be rewarded! (If you need a more specific time, then here it is: Chapter 10.)

Delinae – Glad you liked! ShamefulDesire was the wonderful person who rec'd it, and she did everyone a huge favor with that!

Athena's owl. – Glad you liked, and glad that it was so mesmerizing you couldn't look away! I try! As to the song you mentioned… I've heard of the band, but I must admit I've never heard the song. I'll be sure to look it up!

wezwaij – Poor Murtagh indeed! He just never seems to get a break… Glad you enjoyed! Hopefully this update was nice and quick!

victory by grace – Aw, poor Krin. So many people have threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't tell the truth… And Paolini left so many openings with which to play with magic and his characters! I can't help it, and I took full advantage. About the AnimeCon- one in LA… would that be AnimeExpo? I think Expo is going to be held in LA next year, but I'm not sure. (If I get my parents to agree, I might go to Expo next year. I went last year, but couldn't go this year.) I can hardly wait for 'Hallows'!


	24. Thorn

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: You are all free to kill me in any number of painful and slow, horrible ways you want for making you wait so long! I really don't deserve you guys, since I was so horrible and made you all wait! (begs) Mercy?

In Dreams VIII, Part G 

There was only silence in the room as Nasuada's words sunk in.

Murtagh watched Eragon closely, noting that the brunette was still refusing to look at him. He watched as the blue Rider nodded stiffly to the Varden's leader, then he was moving.

Eragon's feet dragged slightly and though Murtagh could not see his brother's face, he could picture the blue Rider's reluctance. He doubted the others noticed, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed one or two of the elves shift slightly as the tension in the room grew.

Eragon stopped just in front of Murtagh, finally looking up.

The blue Rider's eyes were wide and Murtagh could clearly pick out the anxiety Eragon was feeling. Other emotions swam just beneath the surface, but Eragon looked away before Murtagh identified them.

"Arm, please." the brunette said, shifting uncomfortably. "I need to touch you for this to work."

The red Rider caught his brothers gaze again and smiled reassuringly, slowly lifting his hand and offering it to Eragon.

Eragon- hand shaking almost imperceptibly- took it.

The blue Rider's palm was damp and warm, and it fit just right in Murtagh's slightly larger hand. He squeezed it briefly, but stopped when Eragon tensed. The blue Rider forced himself to relax, concentrating on his magic.

"Ethgri vanyali kopa." Eragon's hand glowed blue for a moment, and then the magic sunk into Murtagh's flesh.

It was different from when Svara had performed the same spell, and not just because Svara's magic was cool and impersonal while Eragon's was warm and inviting. Svara had experience with the spell, and she had the ability to simply check his magic, lightly touching his energy with her own.

Eragon didn't have the discipline to do that.

Murtagh could feel as Eragon's energy mixed with his own, flowing over him and through him. As their magic combined, the world seemed to shrink until it was only himself and the blue Rider.

For a moment, Murtagh couldn't tell what magic belonged to him and what belonged to Eragon, as though they were one person and not two. It was a wonderfully intimate sensation, and for that moment, he could feel his brother as if their bodies were pressed together. He could feel Eragon breathing, Eragon's heart thudding rapidly in his chest, a small bead of sweat running down his neck-

Murtagh breathed in deep, nose picking up a light, woodsy scent that had to belong to his brother. He could feel Eragon's throat work nervously, heart beating even faster in anticipation. The magic still flowed between them, steady and strong, spreading to every part of the red Rider's body.

Without quite realizing what he was doing, Murtagh stepped closer.

Eragon tensed at the movement. The magic receded sharply and left Murtagh feeling strangely alone, but for one small fact; Eragon hadn't released his hand.

Hazel eyes caught brown, Murtagh noticing the conflict within his brothers eyes with a curious mix of hope and surprise. Longing and shame warred with each other as Murtagh watched, then Eragon jerked his hand out of the red Rider's slackened grip and turned to face Nasuada.

"He's clean. The potion Eruka gave him doesn't seem to have any effect." the blue Rider informed the woman, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. "Is that all you need me to do?"

Nasuada nodded slowly.

"You're dismissed. Please report to me tomorrow morning- there are things we need to discuss concerning the upcoming battle."

Eragon bowed slightly, then turned and fled the room without lifting his head for a last glance at Murtagh.

The red Rider allowed his eyes to follow the brunette, but managed to keep himself from turning and following Eragon's movements all the way out of the room.

They had been so close together- not physically, much as Murtagh would have liked, but they had been close. Eragon had felt it too. The brunette had wanted it just as much, even if he had been able to repress and restrain his desire.

Inwardly, Murtagh allowed himself a small smile.

Nasuada's sigh drew him out of his thoughts. He turned his attention back to the room, waiting patiently for his dismissal.

"It's unfortunate we don't have more time, but it is getting rather late and most of you currently in this room have a long journey ahead of you. Oromis, Svara, Kyrin, Vanir, and Arya, please know that the Varden honors you and we offer you all our deepest gratitude. Honors are also offered to your queen for allowing us to have you here in such a dangerous time. You are all dismissed."

The elves nodded respectfully.

"It was no trouble. If it helps defeat Galbatorix..." Kyrin's voice trailed off, and one by one the elves stood and left.

As she passed him, Arya gave Murtagh a small, encouraging smile. The expression was so fleeting Murtagh thought he had imagined it, but he didn't have a chance to ask before the door was shutting softly behind the elves.

He turned to go as well, but Nasuada's voice interrupted his departure.

"Murtagh... I'm glad that Eruka was lying and that you didn't attack him unprovoked. Eragon is by far the best warrior in the Varden, and you've managed to best him almost every time you two have fought..." She paused a moment, as though considering her words. Murtagh turned back to face her just in time to see her open her mouth, shut it, and then her expression clouded over as she apparently reconsidered what she was going to say.

"I'm sure Thorn misses you. Krin can show you where the dragons are housed- tonight if you'd like. You're dismissed."

Murtagh nodded in thanks, a smile on his lips as he thought of his dragon. It had been too long since he had seen Thorn, and even though he had been freed for less than a full day, he felt almost guilty at not having visited the dragon yet.

He bowed slightly, turned, and left.

Insert Line

Krin was sitting in the hall when Murtagh exited the room, Za'roc in his lap and back to the wall. He jerked to his feet when Murtagh appeared, handing him back the blade as though the sword had begun to burn with the reappearance of its owner.

"Here." he mumbled. "Now let's go."

Murtagh gripped Za'roc's sheath just under the guard, holding it by his side. The dark-haired teen turned towards the red Rider's room expectantly.

"Before we go back to my room, I'd like to visit Thorn." he requested. "Lady Nasuada told me you could show me the way."

Krin paused for a moment, then sighed and turned in the opposite direction.

"Fine. Follow me- it's out on the grounds and since it's dark out now, you'll need to keep close. Understand?" Murtagh nodded.

"Thank you."

Krin huffed.

"I still don't like you." he muttered weakly. "But you saved my life, so I owed you. And maybe..."

The teen's next words were so quiet Murtagh almost didn't hear them.

"... maybe it isn't your fault they're dead."

Surprised, Murtagh opened his mouth to comment, but good sense intervened and he closed it quietly. He knew it must have cost the teenager quite a bit to be able to say that to him, however quietly.

Krin began walking, head down, and the red Rider followed, a smile on his face.

Insert Line

Their pace was fairly brisk, so it wasn't long until Krin and Murtagh stood outside the large building that housed the dragons. Just outside of the structure, Krin stopped.

"Go on." the teen said when Murtagh stopped as well. "Just don't take too long. It's late."

Nodding in thanks, Murtagh stepped passed the guard and into the building.

It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust, for the enclosure had no torches to shed light. Outside he had had the moon and the stars so he hadn't been completely blind, but in the building there was only the small windows to allow faint shafts of moonlight and starlight inside. The large open doorway behind him let in little light to penetrate the gloom, as the moon was on the other side of the building.

When his eyes finally did adjust to the dimness, he blinked twice to ensure that what he was seeing wasn't just his imagination. He grinned.

Thorn was sleeping side-by-side with Saphira, pressed tightly together with their tails overlapping. His head rested on the ground before Saphira's, her neck being slightly shorter than that of the red dragon. It was a rather sweet picture, though it did make Murtagh long all the more for Saphira's Rider.

At least someone's love life was healthy.

Murtagh prepared to turn, loathe to interrupt his dragon's rest, and one red eye suddenly cracked open.

Thorn shifted, lifting himself off the ground and staring down at his Rider.

(Are you hurt?) the dragon asked immediately, stepping forward and moving his face close to see if he could smell any injuries. (Eragon was here days and days ago and he told me of the ritual. I offered my help, but I didn't know if it had worked.)

Murtagh lifted his hand and gently laid it on his dragon's snout, scraping his nails lightly against the scales.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't visit earlier." He opened his mind to Thorn, letting the dragon see exactly what he had been up to since he had been freed. The red Rider shared with his dragon the exhaustion he had felt upon waking, the meeting with Nasuada to learn the details of his probation, and the feast he had spent almost no time at before chasing his brother.

He lingered over the memory of seeing Eragon unconscious- the way the blue Rider's cheek had felt in his palm and how he had almost kissed the brunette before Arya interrupted them- and the thrill of chasing his brother. He relished the memory of that confrontation in the narrow alley of the castle. While Thorn viewed the memories, Murtagh allowed himself to relive them.

If he concentrated, he could almost feel Eragon's body against him. He could almost taste Eragon's skin on his lips. With the memories, however, came the longing, the almost painful desire to seek Eragon out and kiss those soft lips.

Murtagh swallowed, forcing the longing down, and moved on to the next set of memories.

Thorn raged with him over Eruka's betrayal of the Varden, and the helplessness he had felt when the Varden guards had arrived at the worst possible moment. He shared the triumph when Krin had defended the red Rider, and the joy when Nasuada allowed Za'roc to stay in Murtagh's possession.

Again, Murtagh lingered over the memory of Eragon, especially how it had felt to have the blue Rider search his magic.

He let the memory go, sighing wistfully.

(Seems like you've been busy.) Thorn remarked, a hint of a smirk in his 'voice'.

"No more so than you have." Murtagh replied, sending a nod at the still-slumbering Saphira. "When did you two get so friendly? Last I saw she was snapping at you and ready attack at the slightest provocation."

Thorn's expression softened. Well, softened as much as his facial muscles would allow.

(Things have changed. We've gotten over some of our differences. As for myself,) Thorn nudged Murtagh lightly with his nose. (I don't think Saphira and I should come as a surprise to you. We're each linked tightly to our Riders, after all. Just because her Rider hasn't accepted you yet doesn't mean she can't accept me.)

Murtagh nodded, staring wistfully at the sapphire dragon.

"I suppose you're right."

Thorn nudged him again.

(Don't worry. It will happen- I'm sure of it.)

The red Rider smiled at his dragon, running his fingertips lightly over Thorn's snout.

"Congratulations, I guess. I am happy for you two- I just wish Eragon and I were so close. You're a lucky dragon- you know that?"

Thorn nodded his head, a human expression he had picked up from his Rider.

(I do. You're my Rider, after all. We've escaped Galbatorix and you are once again in control of yourself.) He sniffed. (And magic, once they remove that disgusting sealing spell from it. All that would complete our lives is for Eragon to submit to you and for Galbatorix to die.)

It was hard not to smile at Thorn's choice of words regarding Eragon, but at the mention of Galbatorix Murtagh grew serious.

"There is a chance for us to kill Galbatorix. Soon, too." Murtagh informed his dragon quietly. "We leave for a battle in little over a week- nine days, to be exact, since this one is almost over."

Thorn growled.

(I'm going to rend him limb from limb. Even had you escaped with me before I hatched and he never bound you, what he's done is unforgivable! Binding Shurikan to himself like that... and that's not to mention his other crimes against life itself!) Thorn growled again, wings shaking in agitation. He stepped backwards, shaking his head vehemently.

(Destroying that creature will be a pleasure. He'll never hunt again once his black blood has been spilled and corpse displayed for the crows to peck at!)

Murtagh's expression hardened.

"I don't think anyone in the Varden understands exactly what he's done to the people under his command once they're no longer useful. I just hope they don't have to see it firsthand."

(It depends on how quickly they kill him and what injuries he sustains. You're sure he'll be at the battle?) Thorn asked, calming down some.

"According to Varden intelligence, yes." Murtagh nodded towards Saphira. "You should get back to sleep. I'll be back to visit tomorrow, all right?"

(All right. I'm glad you're safe- you make sure you rest as well. Don't let the whole mess with Eragon depress you- I know he'll come around.)

Murtagh smiled thinly.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll see you tomorrow."

Thorn nudged Murtagh once more in acknowledgement before returning to his previous position by Saphira. The Rider watched them for a moment, then turned and left.

TBC…

A/N: Sorry! I know it's a bit short, but that's honestly all I have for this chapter! Next up is Chapter 9! Whee! Finally- about time, ne? We haven't seen Eragon in ages- well, haven't had a chapter from Eragon's POV in ages.

I'm really very sorry that I took forever to get this chapter out, but it was being difficult and between a trip to Ireland and summer homework (as well as Deathly Hallows… I finished it in exactly 6 ½ hours after getting it at midnight! Of course, then I had to read some Harry Potter fanfiction… and time just got away from me. But at least you weren't waiting a whole month? Do I get points for that?)

I swear the next chapter will not take as long. I'm starting school soon, and strange as I sounds I should have more time to write during the school year.

Review Replies!

A Friend – Glad you like the story so far, and sorry about the terrible wait!

wezwaij – I figured quite a few people would be wondering exactly how Eragon healed Murtagh earlier, as he did have the seal in place. Hopefully the explanation worked! I have decided to go ahead with chapter names, though I'm afraid I'm not terribly creative either.

Novicewriter – Glad you liked!

Victory by grace – I'm not a big fan of mpreg, so it won't be in here. Nothing against anyone who likes it or writes it, it's just not really my thing. My reasoning behind Eragon and Murtagh's relationship is, yes, they weren't raised as brothers. I just can't see them as brothers, really, since they were never aware that they even HAD a brother until recently! (That would be fun- meeting up at AnimeExpo- so long as neither of us turned out to be some creepy old guy scouring the Internet for young, stupid girls… though I suppose one doesn't really need to worry about that on a fanfiction site, and it's more of a bother on sites like myspace and chat rooms. Still don't know if I'm going to be able to go, but that would be funny if I did go and we bumped into each other!) The slash should be coming soon!

Tasmin – Glad you like! I do my best!

Craig T – I'm so happy you like! Sorry for the wait… but I am glad you think the story is captivating on its own, without the physical slash quite yet!

Lorennasumeragi – Sorry for the wait! I didn't mean for it to take so long…

Vladislova - Basically, Murtagh's magic is still bound since Nasuada actually doesn't know what he did when he ran away from his guard. He didn't tell her, and even though he did find the spy in the Varden, he still won't reveal where he went when he ran away from Krin. I'm glad you like it so far!


	25. Roran

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: You can all feel free to prod me with sharp sticks or stab me now… I'm terribly sorry this took so long, but parts of it were not lending themselves well to writing. I had writer's block for a while, but I expect the next chapter should be up within two weeks.

In Dreams IX

His footsteps echoed disturbingly loud on the stone walls as Eragon stomped towards his room, head down.

Nothing had gone right that night- absolutely nothing. It wasn't even just the night that had gone horribly wrong- the entire day had, starting from when he had awoken after the ritual to free Murtagh.

He reached his room, throwing the door open and letting it slam shut behind him. He jerked his shirt off, yanking it over his head as he kicked off his boots. He didn't bother with his pants, leaving them on as he collapsed into his bed.

All day, his mind had kept reminding him that Murtagh was free. The knowledge had made him oddly paranoid. All day he had glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Murtagh standing behind him.

What frustrated and scared him the most was that he wasn't sure if he had wanted to see Murtagh there or not.

His heart had been so divided all day long. A good part of him was scared to face Murtagh, especially after what the blue Rider had said. He was certain Murtagh remembered, and that scared part of him. He had kept glancing over his shoulder fearfully. What if Murtagh had understood what Eragon had meant and been disgusted by it?

A much smaller part of him, a part he had tried to smother, had him watching for hazel eyes and dark hair hopefully. Perhaps Murtagh had figured out what he meant, and perhaps the red Rider wasn't disgusted. Perhaps he was excited and even happy to hear that Eragon didn't consider him a family member. It was a farfetched and fanciful idea, and most likely not even true, but a small part of Eragon had clung to it. That part longed to see Murtagh standing behind him, a handsome smile on his face and arms wide open.

That part of Eragon scared the blue Rider more than anything else.

Then there was the feast.

He hadn't been there long at all when he had felt eyes studying him. He had looked up, and he had seen the last person- or so he told himself- that he wanted to see. Instinct had gripped him and he had run.

Eragon's mind lingered over the confrontation that had followed, hand coming up to lightly trace the area Murtagh had kissed on his forehead.

The blue Rider had seen his brother eyeing his lips. When Murtagh's hand had cupped his cheek so very, very gently, he had been certain Murtagh was about to kiss him. Even after Eragon had said all those things- which he believed!- Murtagh had still wanted to kiss him. Murtagh had seemed to see right through him and all the lies-

Eragon shook himself. Wanting and loving another man was wrong and awful! That was the truth. It had to be.

It wasn't as if Murtagh's stricken face still haunted him. Of course not. Eragon didn't care if he had hurt Murtagh with those words. Really.

'"Who are you trying to convince? Yourself or me?"'

Eragon rolled over and buried his face in his pillow in an attempt to drown out his brother's voice.

Murtagh's lips had been so very soft against his forehead-

With a strangled scream, Eragon sat up and threw his pillow at the door. It hit with enough force to rattle the door in its frame before landing on the floor with a quiet 'thump'.

Eragon just stared at it blankly, anger fading as quickly as it had appeared.

Perhaps if Murtagh had kissed him properly- on the lips and all- Eragon could finally convince his heart that loving the other man was wrong. Murtagh was probably terrible at kissing, and the kiss would feel wrong and disgusting. The feel of a man's body pressed against his would make him feel dirty, and Murtagh's sword-callused hands would be rough and unpleasant against his skin. The red Rider would be far too forceful and try and push Eragon into doing far more than he was comfortable with. Of course. The whole experience would be disgusting and scary, not pleasant at all.

In fact, such a rotten experience would make him long for the gentle touch of a woman. He didn't actually want Murtagh to kiss him- he just wanted Murtagh's body to convince his that a man was not what he wanted.

'When you're ready, I'll be waiting'- those were Murtagh's exact words. All Eragon had to do was seek Murtagh out, kiss him once, and that would rid him of this strangeness for good, right? No one needed to know that he had kissed another man.

Murtagh's stricken face- the same one Eragon had seen after telling the red Rider exactly how disgusting 'those' kind of people were- flashed through the blue Rider's thoughts. Guilt instantly followed.

How would Murtagh react when he found out Eragon had used him like that?

He sighed, pushing himself up to stand. He strode over to the door and picked up his pillow, ignoring the lump in his throat.

Once back on his bed, he buried his face in his pillow again as he hugged it to his chest.

He couldn't use Murtagh like that. Eragon would need to find another way to rid himself of the longing.

The brunette was about to close his eyes and fall asleep when another memory intruded.

That moment not too long ago- a warm hand in his, with a closeness that was intoxicatingly intense. An extraordinary awareness that had filled him with wonder and warmth, as well as a dangerous desire to become even closer.

He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing and making the action difficult.

That joining with Murtagh was screwing up his thoughts. The red Rider's mind had contaminated his own- that had to be it. That was why his mind lingered over such things. If he was in full control of his mind- if it wasn't being poisoned by someone else's thoughts- then he would never dwell on how comfortably Murtagh's hand had fit in his own or how soft Murtagh's lips had been. He wouldn't want Murtagh to kiss him, even to completely convince himself that being 'strange' was wrong.

After he had slept, everything would be better. He wouldn't be thinking like this.

He closed his eyes. It wasn't long before he fell deeply asleep, lost to wonderful dreams he would- in waking hours- deny existed.

_Elegant hands tangling in his hair._

_Soft lips brushing his own, a smooth tongue sneaking out to engage his own._

_Hazel eyes alight with laughter._

_A healthy heartbeat beneath his ear, lulling him to sleep as a hand ran lightly up and down his bare back._

Insert Line

Eragon walked along the lines of raw recruits. Every volunteer that had responded to the Varden's desperate plea for help was here on the green. The green was plenty large enough for the weapons training the men were waiting for, land almost perfectly flat with few trees or bushes.

It was disturbing how few people there were. Most were criminals, if the large burn marks in the shape of a 'C' on their arms were anything to go by. Few civilians had turned up, mostly men that were hardly more than boys. A few were well-dressed, but most had only rags to wear.

Eragon paused as he reached the front of the group, nodding at the weapons master - Lesthr - as he arrived. The man nodded back briefly, his single eye closing in acknowledgement, then turned to motion to the two aides behind him to drop the wooden replica swords they carried.

The aides did so, then bowed and left.

The Rider watched as Lesthr kicked the swords into something like respectable piles. His grey-streaked ponytail fluttered lightly in the wind as he frowned. He turned to the recruits with a glare.

"Now, each one of you is gonna come up here and grab a sword. Don't hit each other or yourselves with them." When no one moved, Lesthr's eye narrowed, the black eyepatch over his left eye half-covered by the bushy eyebrow above. "Well? Whatcha all waiting for!? Come up and get one!"

There was a sudden scramble of movement as each of the volunteers came up to grab one of the weapons, a few of the more ruthless criminals shoving others out of the way for the straighter swords.

"Hurry up! We ain't got all day! Get back in line!" Lesthr shouted, bending down and picking up his own practice sword. Anyone still within range by the time he straightened got a hard knock on the back of the head.

Eragon watched as Lesthr began showing the volunteers some basic moves. Worringly, though not much of a surprise, few of the recruits seemed to know how to properly hold a sword or swing it so it actually did damage. Once done demonstrating, Lesthr ordered the recruits to start practicing. The weapons master moved through the crowd, knocking people in the head with his weapon whenever the person wasn't swinging right.

A week would not be nearly enough time to train them.

If they had a month, the recruits would at least have some real training. They would understand some basic blocks and counters; at least they'd know the pointy end went into their opponent.

Eragon was so caught up in watching the recruits that he didn't notice the person coming up from behind him.

"Eragon?"

The blue Rider nearly jumped, spinning around in surprise as he recognized the voice. When his eyes caught sight of light brown hair, he smiled.

"Roran!" The blue Rider walked up to his cousin, extending a hand to shake. Roran grabbed the hand, pumped it once, and then pulled Eragon into a one-armed hug.

"Good to see you again, Eragon." Roran said, drawing back and giving the darker-haired man a once-over. Eragon took the opportunity to study his cousin as well, having missed his honorary 'brother'.

Roran seemed to be a bit taller than Eragon last remembered, though not by much. Roran's skin was tanned a much deeper shade than Eragon remembered, and his palm had been covered in harsh calluses. His hair was cut roughly and lightened by the sun, and though Roran seemed happy to see him, Eragon could see that the strain of running New Carvahall was taking its toll.

Seeing his cousin brought back memories of the last time they had seen each other, months after the Battle of the Burning Plains.

Flashback

They had stood quietly at the entrance to Aberon, the people of Carvahall already waiting with wagons loaded with the few provisions Nasuada had been able to give them. Roran stood facing Eragon, Katrina by his side.

"I guess this is goodbye." Roran said, a thin smile on his lips. Eragon nodded, looking down.

"I guess. For now, at least." he replied. He looked up and forced himself to smile. "Good luck."

Roran shook his head, frowning.

"It'll be difficult. Even though I've lead them away from Carvahall and over the Spine, that was much different than running the village will be from day to day. I'm grateful that we can help the Varden, and for the land King Orrin has given us, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to try and lead them. Horst would be better able than I-"

"You'll do fine." Katrina told him softly, touching his arm. "I believe in you."

Roran rewarded her with a real smile, lifting his hand to gently grasp hers. The redhaired woman stepped closer and hugged him.

Katrina glanced up to meet Eragon's eyes as she embraced Roran.

"I've wanted to thank you for saving my life, Eragon. Without you, I don't know how long it would have taken Roran to find me. You protected him when he came for me. I couldn't have forgiven myself if he had gotten hurt because he had tried rescuing me without realizing how dangerous those creatures were." she told him.

Eragon remained silent, nodding. What exactly could he say? 'You're welcome' didn't seem to cut it.

Roran seemed to understand the silence, gently moving away from his bride-to-be and hugging the Rider close.

"I'll do my best to run New Carvahall and we'll do our part to help the Varden. You'll have to see the village sometime; I'm sure it will be great."

Roran stopped speaking, but Eragon understood what else the taller man wanted to say.

'Stay safe. Don't get yourself killed fighting.'

Awkwardly, he raised his hands and patted his cousin's back.

"I'll be fine. Nasuada's given you a more difficult job. New Carvahall will have to produce food enough for most of the people in the Varden."

Roran pulled back, looking into Eragon's eyes. The taller man's face was taut with worry.

"It's not like we're the only farmers in Surda. Our crops are not the sole food source, even for the Varden. You're our only Rider."

Eragon ducked his head, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

"I know."

Silence fell, then the soft shuffling of footsteps could be heard.

Katrina lightly touched Eragon's shoulder, coaxing him to look up. When he finally lifted his head, she hugged him.

"Thank you for everything, Eragon. We'll be hoping for your safety in the coming battles. If you ever need somewhere to go, you can come and visit us."

Eragon nodded, too choked to speak as he hugged her back.

She pulled away first, turning and walking to the wagons. As she passed Roran, she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment before pulling away.

Roran was silent for a moment as he watched her go. He turned back to Eragon with a sigh.

"At least make sure you keep yourself safe until you've met your godchild. Katrina should be giving birth sometime in the next year."

Eragon nodded, eyes watering slightly.

"I'd be honored to be the godfather of any of your children, Roran." Eragon looked over his cousin's shoulder, swallowing as he spotted Elva and Angela among the group ready to travel to the plot of land Orrin had gifted to the farmers of Carvahall.

"Make sure you take care of Elva too, Roran. I still feel badly about what I did to her. I'm glad she'll be with you until she learns how to control her powers. Angela will be useful too. She's good with herbs and should be able to help doctor anyone who is sick or hurt."

Roran nodded, turning away and towards his people.

"Take care of yourself, Eragon."

Eragon swallowed thickly, watching Roran go.

"You too, cousin."

He watched as Roran began yelling out orders. The ex-Carvahallans scrambled into a line, all bearing a pack except for the very young or very old. The few animals they had carried other supplies or would carry those who couldn't walk the distance to New Carvahall.

Slowly, the line began moving out.

The Rider stayed at the gates of Aberon until the Roran and the people he had known as a child disappeared from sight.

End Flashback

"You've grown." Roran's voice drew Eragon out of his mind. The Rider nodded.

"A bit. You're still taller than I am." Eragon paused for a moment. "How is New Carvahall treating you?"

Roran chuckled.

"New Carvahall is doing well. Busy, but after the first few months I managed to get a grasp on leading. It's hard work, leading men that were already old enough to work when I was born, but they listen to me." Roran's smile widened. "I've become a father since I last saw you. A more beautiful baby boy I could not have asked for."

Roran looked the Rider in the eye.

"As promised, we've named you his official godfather."

Eragon could feel shock rip though him, quickly replaced by excitement.

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't decide on which question to ask first.

"What's his name?" Almost as soon as the last syllable left his lips, another question burst out. "What does he look like?"

"Terrin." Roran answered. "He's got his mother's hair and my eyes. My nose, too. He's too young to speak, but he's already crawling all over the house."

"That's wonderful! How's Katrina doing? Elva? Angela?"

"Slow down!" Roran held his hands up, laughing. "Angela helped deliver my son, so Katrina is just fine. She asked me to give you her regards, since she's staying in New Carvahall with Terrin. Elva has been a miracle. She's been helping Angela grow medicinal herbs while Angela teaches her control. Elva still gets visions, but they seem to be less frequent. She's saved a few of us from what would have been truly terrible accidents." Roran's expression sobered slightly. "She saved Katrina from drowning. Both my wife and my son would have died if not for Elva."

Eragon nodded slowly.

"I know you regret what your 'blessing' has done to her, but Elva has done wonders in New Carvahall. Angela says she's not quite ready to rejoin the world, but eventually she'll learn enough control so that she won't suffer. Elva will never be able to intentionally hurt someone, but she will stop suffering ill-effects every time she couldn't protect someone else."

"That's good. I still wish I had never cursed her, though I am glad my sister-in-law and godson were saved because of it."

Roran smiled again and slapped Eragon lightly on the back.

"What's changed around here? I've been getting news on the war, but I most of the news we get is months old and I haven't heard anything about you. I've heard about the battles and how strong you are as a warrior, but I haven't heard anything about your life."

Eragon shrugged, laughing a bit.

"There's really nothing to tell. Most of my time has been taken up with helping the Varden."

"Not found anyone special yet? Katrina was hoping for a niece or a nephew Terrin could play with when he gets old enough. There aren't many infants in Carvahall, though I suspect a few more marriages will be happening within the year."

At the mention of 'someone special', an image of Murtagh popped into Eragon's head. The blue Rider shook his head.

"No. No one." he replied. Roran laid a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder.

"It's all right. Once the war is over, you'll have plenty of time to settle down and find the right woman. You'll be able to woo just about anyone, since you're already a famous war hero."

Eragon nodded, though his delight at seeing his cousin had soured considerably. Roran didn't seem to notice, glancing up at the sky to judge the time.

"I should be going. I have to check on the men I brought with me. They're preparing themselves on the training grounds and I should get ready too." Roran turned to go, smiling over his shoulder at the Rider.

"I'll see you later. There's still plenty to catch up on." New Carvahall's leader said.

Eragon nodded. His throat seemed to close as Roran left.

As he watched Roran go, the only thing he could think of was how proud Roran had been all those years ago when he had helped drive Talc from Carvahall. Eragon could still remember the bruised and bloody form of Talc.

Roran had helped do that to Talc.

What would Roran do if he found out that Eragon was 'strange' too?

TBC…

A/N: Hopefully that wasn't too painful! See you all next week. (In the interest of posting this sooner rather than later, I didn't reply to the reviews of those without an account.)


	26. Spar

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

Dedicated to Kathleen- she knows who she is! Without you, it probably would have taken me a lot longer to get back to writing this…

Posted in honor of my birthday! I'm officially 17 tomorrow!

Also dedicated to all the fans that have come back despite me being MIA for a month.

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

In Dreams IX, Part B

Eragon walked along the outskirts of the training grounds. He had observed the training of the new recruits as Nasuada had asked. Now he had to make sure his own skills hadn't rusted.

The brunette watched as the lithe archers practiced their aim on human-shaped dolls. He continued on, watching as other warriors sparred with wooden swords on ground packed hard by many pairs of feet trampling it. Some people were fighting multiple people, in two-on-one or three-on-one matches. He spotted a few men from Carvahall that had presumably come with Roran to fight in the upcoming battle, but didn't approach them.

The Rider sighed. It seemed as if every sparring arena was full. He had plenty of time to find a sparring partner, but on the downside he would not get much practice in since he would have to wait in line.

There were plenty of people, so it probably wouldn't even take him long to find a fitting partner.

He began scanning the crowd, looking for someone else who didn't have anyone to fight and would agree to spar him. He was paying so much attention to the crowd he didn't notice when a person dressed all in black detached himself from the wall and came up behind the brunette. A slightly smaller figure trailed behind the first.

"Eragon?"

At the sound of his name, the brunette turned without conscious thought. Only after he had turned and therefore acknowledged the speaker did he remember that Murtagh was not someone he wanted to see anytime soon.

The red Rider stood just feet from Eragon, wearing a black linen shirt and leather pants. A wooden practice sword was held loosely in Murtagh's hand.

Krin stood behind Murtagh, nodding respectfully at Eragon. Krin held a practice sword as well, and the gray shirt he wore was damp with sweat.

"Murtagh. Krin." Eragon nodded at the pair, slowly shuffling backwards and refusing to meet Murtagh's eyes. "What are you two doing here?"

"We've been training." the teenager replied promptly. Murtagh didn't reply, though Eragon could feel his brother's stare.

The blue Rider swallowed.

'When you're ready, I'll be waiting. I won't push.'

"That's a good idea. We leave in about a week. Best be prepared." Eragon said carefully, beginning to turn away. "I was just looking for a sparring partner myself, so if you'll excuse me..."

Murtagh's voice stopped him.

"If you're looking for a partner, I'll fight you." The tone was mild and seemed offhand. The tension in the air at Murtagh's offer didn't mesh well with the tone.

Eragon was about to open his mouth to refuse when he realized that the sounds of sparring had quieted. He could still hear the rhythmic 'clack clack' of wood on wood, but the sounds nearest to him had dulled or stopped altogether.

He glanced around stealthily. It didn't take a genius to figure out that most of the people nearby were hanging on to every word exchanged between them.

If he accepted Murtagh's offer of a simple spar, it would be seen as him accepting and trusting Murtagh. Such acceptance would go a long way in causing others in the Varden to accept the red Rider. Fighting together would be a necessity in just over a week, and to fight together trust was needed. With one simple word, Eragon could do much in paving the way for others to give Murtagh that trust.

If he refused, his rejection of Murtagh would just cement in the minds of the Varden that the red Rider was not to be trusted.

Sometimes, Eragon really hated being influential. He had no choice.

"Thank you." he replied, gritting his teeth as he looked his brother in the eye. "I accept."

Murtagh nodded, smiling slightly. The brunette had to look away, shifting uncomfortably.

"Well, come on then." he mumbled, turning to find a line he could stand in with the red Rider.

Much to his surprise, a field seemed to have opened up. While there were many people milling about- most shooting not-so-covert glances towards the pair of Riders - no one seemed to be using the field.

Not bothering to check if Murtagh was following, Eragon began trudging towards the open practice area. He could feel the people of the Varden watching him as excited whispers ran through the crowd, some people taking bets on how long it would take for Eragon to beat the red Rider.

An eerie hush fell over the rapidly swelling crowd as the blue Rider stepped into the large square sparring field. He walked just past the center of the square, taking a deep breath before turning around.

Murtagh was already waiting, studying him quietly. Murtagh held the hilt of his sword in both hands, point down.

He bowed to Eragon, then straightened. The red Rider moved his sword into a defensive position, facing Eragon but making no move to attack yet.

Eragon mirrored Murtagh's movement, bowing to show respect and then flicking his practice sword up.

"Ready?" the darker brunette asked neutrally.

"Yes." Eragon replied, tightening his grip. He reminded himself not to use magic, since the point of sparring was to practice on equal terms. Using magic against Murtagh, while effective, would defeat the purpose, as the pale man's magic was still sealed.

Murtagh attacked. He brought the wooden sword up, bringing it down just as quickly.

The blue Rider blocked the obvious attack easily, throwing the strike off and countering with a stab towards his opponent's stomach.

Murtagh saw it coming and sidestepped, the wooden sword missing him by an inch as Murtagh closed the distance. He brought his sword around to Eragon's neck. The blue Rider scrambled to avoid the strike, needing to suddenly divert all the momentum he had used to push himself forward to stepping backwards and away from what would have been a deadly attack with a real blade.

Eragon stumbled slightly as he dodged. Murtagh pressed his advantage, bringing the wood back towards Eragon again as he stepped forward.

The lighter-haired brunette ducked under the slash, stepping forward and keeping his body low to the ground before bringing his sword up. He was aiming for Murtagh's arm, hoping to 'cut' it off at the bicep while it was vulnerable and exposed, but Murtagh jerked himself backwards. The blue Rider's blade missed his arm by a hair.

With the paler and older of the two still off-balance, Eragon managed to straighten up and began driving Murtagh back. He slashed downwards at Murtagh's chest; the red Rider blocked, though he was forced back a step to keep what little balance he had managed to reclaim.

Eragon brought his sword back up quickly, slashing down again and this time aiming at his brother's shoulder. Murtagh blocked, shoving forward in hopes of knocking Eragon off-balance.

The blue Rider did stumble back a step, but he had already regained his footing and tried to bring his sword down on the red Rider's head just as Murtagh attempted the same. Their practice weapons met with a loud 'clack' and an almost inaudible 'crack'.

Both pressed forward, trying to knock the other back. Both held ground.

That was when Eragon made his first mistake.

He looked into Murtagh's eyes as they pressed closer, and for a moment his concentration failed.

They were much too close- he could feel the heat radiating off of Murtagh's body, and he was suddenly very aware of how loud they were both breathing. The blue Rider could feel the slightly movements of his brother's weapon as Murtagh breathed in and out, muscles straining to push him back.

Murtagh's face was much too close to his, bringing back memories that Eragon couldn't dwell on and would not let himself consciously recall.

_A body pressed against his, trapping him against a wall._

_Eyes staring longingly at his lips._

_Lips gently touching his forehead._

Eragon was drawn abruptly out of his memories as Murtagh read his opponents lack of concentration and pushed forward. Eragon was shoved several feet back before the red Rider finally pushed away to attack properly. He aimed at Eragon's ribs, left vulnerable as the blue Rider instinctively pinwheeled his arms to try and stay balanced.

Seeing the attack coming, Eragon let himself fall backwards, somersaulting backwards the second he hit the ground. Murtagh's strike passed harmlessly overhead.

There was a momentary pause in the fighting as both Riders regained full balance and tried to control their breathing. Though neither had landed a strike yet, it took a great deal of energy to keep dodging and striking.

The duo warily circled, looking for an opening.

Eragon made his second mistake.

Brown eyes caught hazel, and for just a second Eragon could have sworn he saw longing and desire buried deeply in his brother's eyes. He faltered.

Hazel eyes flashed.

Eragon barely had time to bring his blade up to block the strike to his ribs. There was a loud 'crack', and suddenly Murtagh's sword was in two.

The red Rider stared at the broken practice sword in surprise for a moment. Eragon used his brother's moment of shock to launch his own offensive.

Murtagh looked up just in time to see the attack. He quickly stepped back, tossing the broken pieces of the sword to the side. He dropped to one knee and spun as Eragon stepped forward.

The red Rider's outstretched leg caught Eragon's ankle, bringing the blue Rider down hard on his back. The blue Rider gasped for air, too busy trying to breathe to react as Murtagh grabbed the sword from his hand.

A hand pressed against his chest and the dull point of the sword was pressed lightly against his throat.

Eragon looked up at his brother's face.

The red Rider seemed almost apologetic as he opened his mouth to declare his victory.

Before Murtagh could utter a single syllable, Eragon grabbed the point of the sword in his hand and twisted. A few splinters lodged themselves in his palm, but he didn't cry out. He rolled, taking the sword with him. He could feel it jerk out of Murtagh's grip. Eragon quickly shifted the hilt to his own hand, standing up.

Not wanting to give the red Rider time to get to his feet, Eragon darted towards his brother without much of an attack plan. He brought his sword up to strike.

Murtagh rolled, still on the ground. He snatched the longer part of his broken sword, grabbing it in both hands and bringing it around just in time to block Eragon's downward swing.

The blue Rider pressed down, trying to use his advantage of gravity, but a foot planted itself firmly in his stomach and he was thrown headfirst over his brother.

Eragon rolled as he hit, but the harsh ground had thrown him for a loop. He staggered to his feet, only to be knocked back down.

He twisted on the ground as Murtagh tried to climb on top of him and hold him down to ensure that Eragon wouldn't move. His turn to plant a foot in his brother's gut. Murtagh cried out in pain and surprise as Eragon shoved him back.

The blue Rider kept moving, following his brother as Murtagh landed hard on his back. He climbed on top of Murtagh, resting on top of his brother's body.

He wasn't expecting Murtagh to buck and then pull one of Eragon's arms tight into his body. Eragon was thrown off balance and had no clue what had happened until he realized he was on his back again, staring up at Murtagh as the pale man tried to claim the dominant position.

For a second, Murtagh hesitated. Chocolate eyes watched as Murtagh cast a glance around the field, looking at the huge crowd that had gathered to watch them fight.

Eragon could almost see the gears turning in Murtagh's head as the older of the pair came to a decision. Murtagh's movements slowed down just a fraction, defenses dropping just enough so that Eragon could pull his legs in and land a solid kick on Murtagh's chest.

As the red Rider was thrown backward, Eragon leapt after him. As Murtagh hit the ground, the blue Rider straddled him and grabbed his arms, pinning him fully to the ground. Murtagh didn't struggle.

For a moment, the lighter-haired brunette just breathed, chest heaving with exertion.

He stared down at his brother as the red Rider stared up. Murtagh was breathing heavily as well, hair and face damp with sweat. His shirt was soaked. Eragon knew that he was just as exhausted and sweaty as his brother.

"I win." Eragon said. It had been a good spar, but the victory seemed hollow.

Perhaps that was because the red Rider had given him the victory.

Murtagh nodded, face calm and accepting.

Slowly, Eragon pushed himself up. As soon as he was standing, he offered a hand to help his brother up. The red Rider took it, pulling himself to a standing position. He nodded once to the blue Rider before turning and collecting the broken pieces of his practice sword.

The second the red Rider turned his back, the spectators swarmed the field.

"That was amazing, Rider! Where'd you learn to fight like that?" one of the younger warriors asked. Eragon just stared, unsure of how to answer. He wasn't given time.

"Very good fight. He nearly had you a time or two, but you showed that traitor!" A flare of annoyance shot through Eragon and he opened his mouth to protest the use of the word 'traitor', but before he could he was interrupted again.

"How'd you get so strong?"

"Tha' was really impress've. Never seen ya fight, so tha' was a treat, Rider."

"Could you teach me that move?"

The questions and comments began to run together in the blue Rider's mind. Eragon just nodded to no one in particular and quickly excused himself.

Within minutes he could hear the crowd behind him disperse and the normal sounds of training begin again as the men remembered that they needed to be prepared for the battle yet to come.

As he left the training field, he noted that Murtagh seemed to have disappeared.

Eragon walked back to his room, mind fixed firmly on one topic.

Murtagh had let him win. Eragon would be lying if he said that Murtagh conceding the fight to him didn't wound his pride.

He knew why his brother had done it - if Murtagh had won, morale would have been lowered. It wasn't very uplifting to have your strongest warrior beaten by a person once branded a traitor and only recently come to your side, after all. It still stung that he wasn't able to defend himself from the other Rider. He couldn't defend himself because his 'strangeness' was really starting to affect him.

How was he supposed to fight when reminders of how soft Murtagh's lips tormented him? He couldn't fight Galbatorix if his hormones were constantly distracting him.

Even though he knew he wouldn't be fighting Murtagh on the battlefield, the red Rider would be there. Even one second of distraction could cost Eragon his life if he was fighting against Galbatorix. Murtagh would be a distraction as long as he was within sight.

The Varden needed strong warriors for the battle. They couldn't afford to keep the red Rider from fighting just because Eragon couldn't concentrate.

He needed another way to rid himself of his desire.

His thoughts slowly began to turn back to the previous night.

If he kissed Murtagh once and hated it, would that really get rid of his terrible want and longing?

It was a ridiculous theory, but Eragon was desperate.

Perhaps it could work. If he just kissed Murtagh once-

No. It had to work.

No matter the amount of guilt he'd feel later over using Murtagh's desires for him so wrongly, he had to try it.

Just once would be enough to convince himself that being 'strange' was wrong.

His mind flashed back to earlier that day, when the new recruits had been learning.

Roran was here.

Roran despised 'strangeness'.

He had to make sure that Roran never found out. He could probably trust Murtagh to be quiet. He just had to make sure that he spoke to Murtagh away from Krin.

He swallowed thickly.

It was too easy to imagine how much hurt he could cause his brother by using him like this, but he didn't have a choice.

He had to stop this - whatever 'this' was - before it got more out of control.

Eragon quickly changed out of his clothes, stepping over into the small bathroom attached to his room and rinsing himself with some cool water from the wash basin. He dried himself off before moving over to his wardrobe and picking out new clothes to wear.

It didn't take long to pick out a plain brown shirt and ordinary brown leather pants. He pulled them on quickly, pulling on his boots and exiting his room.

All he had to do was kiss Murtagh once and it would be over.

A small snippet of memory played back in his mind.

He could still clearly see the hurt look on his brother's face from that night; the night

Murtagh had cornered him.

It seemed so long ago, though Eragon knew it had not been very long since he had seen that look.

The memory caused his chest to tighten.

Could he really go through with this, at risk of any friendship he might one day have with Murtagh?

Could he really kiss his brother when he risked seeing that face again?

He swallowed.

He had no choice.

TBC…

A/N: So, hopefully we all enjoyed that…

Next week is the moment you all have been waiting for!

Hint: Next chapter title is 'Kiss'.


	27. Kiss

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: Please enjoy this, everyone! And please read the AN at the bottom… While you're at it, please excuse any lack of details or accurate information on the kiss, since I have no experience in that area and am basing this off of guesses and what I've read.

This is being posted early since I'm going to be out of town for a few days and I figured you all would rather have the chapter earlier, not later. The next chapter will be up next weekend. (Not the one coming up in a few days, but the one coming up in a week and a few days, just to clarify.)

In Dreams X

Murtagh had been lying down on his bed when the knock came at the door.

Krin stood up from where he had been sitting and leaning against the wall, opening the door wide.

It took Murtagh almost a whole minute to be certain he wasn't imagining things.

Eragon was standing outside the door.

"Rider Eragon? Do you need me for something?" Krin asked after a moment of stunned silence. The blue Rider shook his head.

"I'd like to speak to Murtagh. Privately."

The red Rider pushed himself up to a sitting position, shifting and placing his feet on the floor.

Eragon didn't look at him.

Krin glanced from one brother to the other, opening his mouth and closing it several times, apparently uncertain of what to say.

The tension rose.

The teenage guard was the first to speak.

"I'm sure that would be all right. I'll wait outside the door-"

"No." Eragon blurted out, looking directly at Krin. When the green-eyed boy stared at him in surprise, he continued. "I was thinking about taking a walk with my brother. We've never really talked, at least not while knowing we were brothers, and..."

Eragon's voice trailed off, cutting his babbling short.

Krin seemed to understand anyway, nodding slowly.

"I think it would be okay, as long as you kept an eye on him."

The guard glanced over towards Murtagh and motioned for the red Rider to stand. After a moment's hesitation. Murtagh did so.

He already had on his boots and was fully dressed, so without further ado he brushed passed Krin and into the hallway. The blue Rider glanced at him, not speaking, and then turned down the hallway.

It was an obvious invitation to follow.

With one last glance at his room- the door already shut again- Murtagh followed.

Insert Line

The silence was strained and brittle as the red Rider followed his brother through the deserted castle halls. Eragon seemed to be deliberately leading Murtagh through the remotest and least-used parts of the castle, as though looking for something.

While the red Rider wondered at their destination, Eragon was having a small mental war. A small but very vocal and vehement part of him wanted to kiss Murtagh and prove once and for all that this 'strangeness' was just a phase, but a much larger part of him didn't want to hurt his brother.

Eragon swallowed.

He had to go through with this. The blue Rider had resolved to kiss Murtagh and be done with it, so why was it so difficult when actually faced with his older brother?

Even so… he had to. He would find some way to make it up to Murtagh later, once his heart and mind were no longer at odds with each other.

They had been walking for a good ten minutes, and had circled around the same hallway twice. Eragon had found his resolve.

Murtagh was just about to ask why Eragon had come to 'talk' to him when the blue Rider suddenly stopped in the middle of a small hallway, lit only by dim torches. The older man almost ran into his younger brother before catching himself and stopping.

With a deep breath, Eragon turned to face him.

"I've been thinking." the blue Rider said. His voice was quiet and his eyes were constantly moving, checking to make sure no one else was in the hallway.

Murtagh nodded, not entirely sure what his brother was getting at.

"About what you said that night... about waiting for when I'd be ready..." Eragon swallowed. "Did you mean it?"

He knew what kind of effect his question would have on his brother. He knew how it sounded.

Flabbergasted, Murtagh almost didn't realize that he had been asked a question. He stared, dumbstruck, at his younger brother.

As the words sunk in, his heart began to pound harder in his chest. Eragon could see the shock melt away in Murtagh's hazel eyes before being replaced with excitement and hope.

Eragon swallowed thickly as he stared towards the ground. A lump was beginning to form in his throat and his stomach felt like lead.

He would apologize later.

"Yes." Murtagh replied, a bit breathless. He tried not to let himself hope for too much, as he could still clearly recall every word the blue Rider had thrown so cruelly at him that night, but the way Eragon was speaking-

Still, it was best not to hope for too much.

"I..." Eragon didn't look up. It really hurt to hear the joy in his older brother's voice, especially since the blue Rider was very aware of how badly he was leading the other on.

Murtagh held his breath in anticipation, somehow knowing what Eragon would say and hardly daring to believe it.

"I... I think I'm ready." Eragon forced himself to lift his head. Their eyes met.

The blue Rider had to exercise all his will just to keep looking. In all the time he had known Murtagh, he couldn't remember one when he had seen the other Rider so happy, though the joy was mixed with shock.

The older of the two just stared in shock. He stepped forward slightly, bringing them close enough to kiss, without really realizing what he was doing

Eragon didn't flinch, though he did tense. The other Rider didn't notice.

"Are you certain?" Murtagh asked softly. Hesitantly, Eragon nodded, hiding his guilt and shame.

Hazel eyes stared intently into brown. The red Rider knew that just days ago Eragon had been extremely set in his dislike of Murtagh's 'kind' and even now seemed to be hiding something, but…

For once, Murtagh decided not to question his good luck. Even if Eragon was hiding something, Murtagh was only human and his ability to deny himself the things he wanted was at its end.

Slowly, the older man embraced the younger. Eragon tensed as they were drawn even closer together, but slowly raised his arms and embraced Murtagh as well.

Eragon ignored how comforting and warm and _right_ it felt to be pressed against the other Rider, shoving all such thoughts to the back of his mind. He had to play along until Murtagh kissed him. After that he could gently let the other man know that this kind of a relationship wasn't going to work. It couldn't work, no matter how comfortable Murtagh's body was, or how well Eragon molded to him.

It just wasn't right, no matter how it felt.

The red Rider could feel the tension in his brother's body. He just held on, rubbing soft circles on Eragon's back until some of the tension disappeared.

Eragon was still not fully relaxed, but it was a step in the right direction.

The taller Rider moved closer.

"May I kiss you?" Murtagh whispered in his brother's ear. With Eragon so skittish over a simple hug, he didn't want to move too quickly.

To his surprise, Eragon nodded. The blue Rider could feel the leaden weight in his stomach multiply, though butterflies seemed to be making a home in his gut now as well.

Neither feeling was one the brunette was willing to investigate too closely.

The red Rider pulled slightly away from their embrace, leaving one hand on his brother's waist while bringing the other up to gently lift Eragon's chin.

Eragon's mind seemed to freeze. This was exactly what he had wanted, but suddenly he wanted to shove Murtagh away and tell him to stop. All his senses were screaming that this wasn't fair and wasn't right. He should never have even tried using the other Rider like this.

Murtagh smiled reassuringly at Eragon before tilting his head and closing the distance.

Somehow, the smile made it all worse for the blue Rider.

As their lips met, all Eragon could think about was how wrong and how stupid he had been for not stopping the kiss when he had the chance.

None of Murtagh's daydreams matched to the reality of kissing Eragon. Not even all of them combined could measure up to the moment.

For Eragon, it was almost a nightmare. His brother's lips were soft and smooth, gently pressing against his, and Eragon didn't hate it. He didn't hate the kiss. He should have. He was kissing another man. It was wrong.

So why did he want to stay in the moment for as long as possible? Why did he suddenly want to forget everything about Carvahall?

Murtagh's tongue ran lightly over Eragon's lips. Unthinkingly, the blue Rider parted them.

The kiss was sweet and just... perfect. Perfect was the only way Murtagh could think to describe it, even though he knew that neither he nor Eragon had much experience with kissing. If only Eragon would actually kiss him back…

They broke apart, both breathing heavily.

The red Rider was smiling contently, the truest smile the blue Rider had ever seen the other make.

It hurt to see that smile when he was only being allowed to see it because of a lie.

Eragon had expected painfully chapped lips. He had expected force and aggression, perhaps the red Rider expecting complete submission from him. He had expected to despise the way Murtagh's mouth tasted. He had expected to hate it.

He hadn't anticipated wanting another kiss. The blue Rider was torn, being ripped in two different directions by his heart and by his head. He didn't know which one to follow any more.

All he knew was that the only thing he wanted at the moment was for Murtagh to kiss him like that again.

Murtagh leaned in again for another kiss, only to have a shout utterly shatter the moment.

"Eragon!?"

The blue Rider jerked away from his brother in confusion. The confusion didn't last long.

The second his eyes landed on who had discovered them, he could feel the blood drain from his face. He let go of Murtagh as though he had been burned, practically shoving the red Rider away as he stared at the very last person he had hoped would find him in such a position.

Murtagh, for his part, was just confused. He looked from Eragon to the new arrival, sizing the latter up.

The man was a bit taller than Eragon, his hair lighter and skin tanner. His body was built strong, muscles defined as though he worked hard at some form of heavy labor. The red Rider could vaguely recall seeing the man, but couldn't figure out where.

Murtagh glanced back towards Eragon. The blue Rider must have recognized the man, as said Rider was almost inhumanly pale, eyes wide and horrified.

"Roran?" Eragon croaked.

Roran stared at Eragon for almost a full minute in dead silence, shock the only emotion on his face. Slowly, as the two Riders watched, his face contorted into an expression of severe outrage and disgust.

Eragon could feel hurt twisting in his gut, shame washing over him. All he could see was Roran's disgusted face, Roran's anger.

What had he been thinking? Now Roran had seen… how would he explain this to the cousin that had been more like a brother to him than anything else?

"I don't know you." Roran spat in reply, turning on his heel. His shoulders were stiff and tense as he pointedly walked away from Eragon and Murtagh.

Still confused as to who this 'Roran' was, Murtagh didn't even think enough to be offended by the man's actions. He had no clue what was going on, and so watched Eragon. The blue Rider was much more sensitive to other people's emotions and ideas, and with their relationship so fragile and new-

Murtagh took a step towards his brother, but to his shock the other Rider sidestepped and moved passed him.

"Roran! Wait! I can explain this!" Eragon called desperately. Roran continued walking, purposefully ignoring the Rider. "Cousin! Wait!"

At that, Roran stiffened and spun to face them.

"You're no damn cousin of mine! I don't HAVE a cousin, not one who would even THINK about kissing a FREAK. You're just as sick as that 'thing' you're with!"

Murtagh bristled at the words, turning and facing Roran with an angry retort on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't see Eragon's face, as the blue Rider was standing with his back to the older of the brothers.

Eragon could feel his world crumbling. While he knew that Murtagh was behind him, he no longer thought about what he was saying, trying desperately to make Roran stay so he could explain himself properly.

"No! I'm not like that! I'm not a freak! I'm not like him at all! He's the sick one- I didn't want to! I'm not like that!" Eragon took several steps forward, not realizing the impact his words were having on his brother. The blue Rider searched his cousin's face frantically, hoping that his words were getting through.

Murtagh could feel the words he had been about to say die on his tongue, anger vanishing abruptly and ice taking over for the blood in his veins.

Last time, that night of the feast, Eragon's words had not affected him because he had known that Eragon had not believed what he had said. Eragon's words at that time had obviously been desperate attempts to convince himself, as his voice had been almost laughably insecure and uncertain. This time, there was something too close to actual conviction in the blue Rider's tone for Murtagh to completely discount what his brother was saying.

He had thought that his brother had enjoyed the kiss, but now he was painfully unsure. If Eragon could still say how 'wrong' this was-

His thoughts were cut off as Eragon continued.

"I know it's wrong! It felt awful and I hated it! See? I'm not a freak. I don't like him." Eragon babbled. Roran's expression remained furious, and in fact the more Eragon spoke the angrier it seemed to make New Carvahall's leader.

"Then explain that to me! What were you doing in the middle of the night with one of 'those'?!" Roran hissed, striding forward to glare down at the blue Rider. For good measure, he threw one towards Murtagh as well, but the red Rider didn't notice, mind whirling with what the other Rider was saying.

'See? I'm not a freak. I don't like him.' Eragon's earnestly hateful voice seemed to echo, though instead of growing quieter, each echo seemed to be louder than the last.

It hurt. It was like being slammed into the stone walls of the castle repeatedly, and every echo made the feeling grow.

A small part of him wanted to believe that Eragon was lying, but a much larger part of him was silently crying out in pain as the blue Rider's words etched themselves in Murtagh's mind, bringing up the painful memory of the night of the feast.

'-wrong, absolutely disgusting…'

Had he been wrong, then, to assume that Eragon had been lying to himself? Had Eragon been serious?

Why had the blue Rider kissed him then?

"It… because…" Eragon's choked voice drew Murtagh out of his thoughts. The red Rider stared numbly at the brunette, watching from behind as Eragon began to explain.

Had Eragon stopped to think, he might have censored himself. Had Eragon stopped to think, he might never have spoken and just let Roran leave when the farmer had first appeared.

"It was an experiment. I was making sure I wasn't strange. I wasn't serious. I know I'm normal now, because I hated it and normal people would hate it, right Roran? It was just an experiment- it didn't mean anything to me. He's just a freak, so it doesn't count."

Any hope Murtagh had been holding on to shattered. The small part of him- the part that believed Eragon was lying and had enjoyed the kiss- died horribly.

For a second, the memory of Eragon's eyes just before their kiss surfaced. Eragon had been hiding something.

Funny. At the time, Murtagh had thought it didn't matter.

He watched Eragon plead with Roran to understand with an odd sort of detachment, hearing only a buzz in his ears as he watched. It all seemed like a very bad dream he would soon wake up from.

He didn't want to add Eragon's name to the long list of people he loved once who had betrayed him. He didn't want to think about the fact that Eragon had used him for an 'experiment' and played with his heart-

It felt a lot like how Galbatorix had used him and played him against his brother.

Murtagh could feel the bottom drop out of his stomach as he made the comparison. He felt sick and dizzy, but it was as though the feelings belonged to someone else.

In the future, he'd have to be much more careful about who he trusted, since it seemed those unwilling to stab him in the back were in short supply.

The blue Rider had not yet realized how badly he had hurt Murtagh, still fully dedicated to making sure Roran didn't hate him for one mistake.

"It will never happen again! I swear it!" Eragon vowed, staring up at Roran and cursing their small height difference. He reached to clasp his cousin's hand, but Roran backed up, moving himself out of touching range. The look he wore was still one of disgust, looking down at Eragon as though the Rider was a particularly mangy and diseased dog attempting to beg for scraps.

"You're not my cousin." Roran reiterated. "No cousin of mine would ever even think about kissing another man! You're just as sick as that freak you're with! I don't want to ever hear from you again, understand? As of this moment, we are no longer 'family'."

Roran spat on the ground at Eragon feet, turned, and stomped away.

Eragon stared after his cousin as the village leader vanished from sight in the dimly lit hall.

He had been disowned from the only family he had really known.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout for Roran to come back and make him understand that the kiss was supposed to be a one-time thing, just to rid himself of unwanted feelings. He wanted to drop to his knees and bang on the floor. He wanted to hit something.

Roran was his only real family. Murtagh may have been blood-related, but by the time Eragon had found out it had been too late-

The blue Rider's breath caught, body jerking straight upright and muscles tensing. Slowly, he turned.

The red Rider was still standing behind him, eyes oddly blank and face devoid of emotion. Eragon swallowed turning fully and opening his mouth to speak.

"I…" he began, then stopped. "I'm… I… I didn't mean-"

"You did." Murtagh's quiet, resigned voice cut him off. Eragon looked down at the ground.

He couldn't exactly deny it. While most of what he had told Roran he wasn't entirely honest about, he couldn't tell the red Rider he had lied. Murtagh wouldn't believe him and even if Murtagh did, they couldn't have a relationship.

Eragon could find methods to forget the breathtaking kiss. He could find other methods of getting rid of these feelings. They might even fade on their own if he managed to get Murtagh to stop pursuing him.

If he managed to become 'normal', maybe Roran would accept him back again.

"I did." Eragon lied quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Why had that phrase cost him so much to say?

"So it was all an experiment?" Murtagh asked tonelessly. He was proud of how steady and even his voice was, since he hadn't been certain he would be able to speak just a moment ago.

Eragon nodded.

"Why me?" the red Rider asked.

Eragon bit his lip.

There was only one real answer to give. Only one he could give without risking the creation of another mess.

"You were there. I knew you'd kiss me." Eragon swallowed thickly. "I needed to know that I hated being kissed by another man."

"And you used me to prove that."

Biting down harder on his lip, Eragon nodded.

Silence fell. Murtagh turned to go, head down.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Eragon whispered. He needed Murtagh to know that, even if he couldn't say anything else. "I really didn't." His voice cracked.

Silence.

"You did, but I don't suppose it matters because I'm just a 'freak', right?" Murtagh's voice was still emotionless, even despite the emphasis he put on 'freak'. There was no malice in his tone, no anger, just quiet defeat.

Eragon didn't reply, but blood began to flow from his lip where he had finally broken the skin.

"I guess we're done here. The only thing we have left to say is goodbye." Murtagh lifted his head, but didn't glance behind him. Eragon could hear him take a deep breath before starting forward.

"Goodbye, Rider Eragon." The red Rider's tone was carefully polite and distant as he walked away.

Eragon felt as though someone had struck him. He had managed to lose the last member of his 'family' in all senses of the word. The 'brother' he had grown up with had disowned him. The brother by blood he had only recently found was leaving him. The person who had loved him was leaving.

It was no one's fault but his own.

If he hadn't tried to use Murtagh like that he would not have lost anyone.

He had gained nothing, nothing except new fodder for the dreams that haunted his sleep.

Eragon lifted a shaky hand, pressing it to his lips. He could still taste Murtagh. He could almost feel the others lips on his if he concentrated.

He had lost almost everything that had meant something to him.

"I'm sorry." The blue Rider whispered to no one. Murtagh was already too far down the hall to hear him.

Eragon couldn't remember the last time he had felt so very, very cold.

TBC…

A/N: I'm really sorry. I know many of you were expecting them to kiss and make up, perhaps get together, but the characters were not letting me. Eragon decided to be stubborn and hateful. Trust me when I say that having them get together in this chapter would have been fake and unnatural.

Never fear, for more is coming soon. The story is only about half over, chapterwise.


	28. Attacked

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

Dedicated to Kathleen. (I TOLD you I'd get it out over the weekend!)

Also dedicated in part to all the lovely people who put up with me disappearing off the face of the earth for two whole months.

And of course, Chizwhiffle, my lovely beta!

Note: Kind of un-beta'd for the moment. My beta has read this and said no glaring mistakes, but she hasn't said anything about little ones. Some of this chapter may end up changing, but I promised to post no later than Sunday night, and the time is 10 PM where I am on Sunday at this very moment.

In Dreams XI

Roran stomped out of the castle. The few people he encountered scurried out of his way, hastily avoiding him.

The glare he had on his face may have had something to do with that.

The farmer stalked to the doors of Orrin's castle, pushing one of them open and shoving it shut behind him as he made his way to the barracks he had been assigned to. A part of him still couldn't believe what he had seen.

Eragon, the cousin who had been like a brother to him, had been kissing another man! Had anyone else told him, he would never have believed them and defended his cousin's honor.

Briefly, Roran thought about how hurt his cousin had looked when he, Roran, had stumbled on that scene. His anger abated for a moment as he considered the Rider's words.

Had Eragon actually been telling the truth? It had certainly sounded like it, but even so what had driven him to kiss another man in the first place?

Thinking about Eragon's pleading only brought back the memory of the Rider kissing the other man in full force. Roran's anger ignited again.

He glared as he drew closer to his barracks, the door barely visible in the gloom of the night. He burst through the door, the loud 'slam' making several of the men currently sleeping stir and bringing the attention of all the men still awake to the door.

Silence.

Roran scowled at the questioning looks the five still awake sent him. He began making his way over to his bed.

One approached him. Roran could hear the footsteps, but didn't bother turning.

He jerked his shirt over his head with stiff movements, grabbing a sleep-shirt as he waited for the other to speak.

"So... Roran, did you find Eragon?" the man asked tentatively. Roran recognized the voice. Albriech, one of Horst's sons.

"I found him all right." Roran said bitterly. He yanked the sleep-shirt on over his head and turned to face the five men still awake.

Albriech stood only a few feet from Roran, while Baldor, Horst's other son, sat with his father. Horst held a scrap of paper, likely a note from his wife, Elain, about his two-year-old daughter, Quisty. Said scrap of paper no longer seemed to hold either man's interest.

Fisk and Morn were each on their own beds, Morn with a bottle of his famous mead and Fisk with a small piece of wood and a knife, likely carving a small toy for Terrin.

Both Morn and Fisk had, just like Baldor and Horst, put aside what they were doing and openly watching Roran.

"I thought you were on good terms with your brother." Horst said. "Just a bit ago you left to go talk about New Carvahall s'more with him."

"He's not my 'brother'." Roran spat. He knew most of the people of Carvahall, and thus New Carvahall as well, considered Roran and Eragon brothers, despite their actual blood relationship. He had never minded before, but now things had changed.

Eragon had changed.

Baldor sighed.

"Cousin, then. What happened?" he asked.

"He's no blood relative of mine." Roran hissed. He would have probably allowed himself a small inward smile if he hadn't been so angry. He had needed to vent his frustration and anger with what had happened, and this would be perfect. If he had had the group before him curious before, now he had them actually concerned. They all knew that family was very important to Roran, so for him to disown a family member he had clung to so loyally in the past something big must have happened.

"What'd y' say?" Morn asked, exactly as Roran had known he would.

"That person is no longer family." the farmer said clearly.

"What did he do?" Baldor's voice was shocked, and with a quick glance at the other man Roran easily figured out that Horst's youngest son was thinking of all possible scenarios that lead to such hatred between Eragon and Roran.

"I found him," Roran's intentionally spoke quieter, coldly delighted as the five men leaned in a bit closer to hear. They were hanging on his every word. "-kissing another man."

With the words, Roran could feel some of his anger redirect itself, channeling itself into his words. A cold sense of purpose filled him.

Eragon had been hiding with his male lover in dark and deserted hallways. Eragon had been terrified when he had been discovered.

It was time to impress upon the blue Rider exactly how horrible and diseased he was for having a male lover. Actually hurting Eragon physically was something Roran knew he could not do; the blue Rider still had the chance to be redeemed, after all, and as much as Roran wanted to deny it he still saw the brunette as family. If Eragon would just understand, and if only the lesson could be impressed upon him deeply enough that Roran knew he would never forget it-

What better way to achieve that than to bring his relationship to light, and let everyone in the Varden know?

Perhaps, one day, he would be able to fully forgive Eragon and allow him to see New Carvahall, just so long as the Rider understood what he had done.

Insert Line

Eragon walked slowly through the crowded training area, wading through the soldiers to get to the door to the castle.

It had been days. Days since he had sought Murtagh out to kiss him in the hall and had been discovered by Roran. Days since he had perhaps irreparably damaged his relationship with both his blood-brother and cousin.

The heavy feeling in his gut hadn't left. It ate at him, gnawing on his insides almost like a living creature. Eragon refused to dwell on it, not wanting to name the emotion that intensified every time his thoughts strayed back to that night and Murtagh's reaction to the blue Rider's words.

Despite the fact that what could be the final battle was almost upon them, Eragon couldn't eat. He had tried, but even the most flavorful cheeses and bread and greens tasted bland and dry in his mouth. He ate what he had to for sustenance, but it was a chore.

He hadn't seen Murtagh since that night in the hall. Every so often he would catch a hint of black moving through the halls or through a crowd of soldiers, always accompanied by a slighter shadow that was doubtless a guard, but Murtagh had not tried to find Eragon. The red Rider hadn't even come to demand the apology he was certainly entitled to.

Eragon's mentally shook his head, shoving all thoughts of the other Rider out of his mind.

He didn't miss seeing Murtagh at all. Eragon was the one who had driven him away in the first place and he therefore had no right to miss the way Murtagh's dark eyes used to light up upon seeing him, or the small half-smile the other Rider had, or even the true smile he had seen only once, right before shattering Murtagh's heart.

Eragon's chest tightened.

His thoughts betrayed him, refusing to leave the memory of their only kiss alone. It plagued him nightly, tormenting him with thoughts of what he might have had-

He didn't want it. That thought repeated through his head like a mantra, reminding himself how abnormal his feelings were. Eragon knew it was wrong, and Roran had reinforced the notion. The kiss should have already left his mind as proof that he wasn't 'like that' but it refused to leave, even without Murtagh's presence.

The blue Rider hadn't realized how comforting it had been to know that the other Rider would be there whenever he asked, how comforting it had been to have the option to go to Murtagh if he had needed to. Even though he knew he would never have taken the option, it had been soothing to have it open.

Somehow, even though he had never been in a real relationship - other than friendship, and he kept telling himself that he wanted no more than that - with his older brother, he felt strangely alone now that all conversation had been cut off. Though he would always have Saphira, it was still oddly lonesome in a way he didn't want to dwell on.

Lately, he had felt eyes watching him. Not the comforting pair of hazel he had grown used to - and disliked, he told himself sternly - but multiple pairs of unfamiliar eyes coldly watching him when his back was turned. Eragon could feel people watching him everywhere he went, and the number of watchers seemed to grow day by day.

The blue Rider couldn't quite put his finger on what made him so uncomfortable with the stares. He had been gazed at in awe and shock because of his status as a Rider and the Varden's last hope, but there was something much colder in these recent gazes than he had experienced before. The eyes seemed to pierce straight through his soul, laying him bare and leaving him feeling oddly naked.

It wasn't a comfortable feeling, especially since his greatest secret was now in the hands of two people who most likely wanted revenge. Murtagh he couldn't blame for using the information, much as he would like to. Eragon knew that if anyone deserved revenge, it would be the red Rider.

It didn't mean the thought didn't terrify him, or that he didn't silently but fervently hope that Murtagh had told no one.

Roran... Roran wouldn't tell anyone, he hoped. While he knew that Roran no longer considered them family (the cold shoulder and harsh glares every day since the unfortunate meeting in the hallway helped cement the idea), surely the man who had been a brother to him wouldn't tell?

Eragon was only a few dozen feet from the door when he felt cold stares pierce his cloak and strike through him.

No matter how common the frozen gazes were these days, it never failed to make Eragon feel as though the temperature in his immediate area had dropped ten degrees in the space of seconds.

He glanced over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of his watchers.

It was almost a habit now, to glance at the people staring at him. Usually, once caught, the watchers would turn back to whatever they were doing. Sometimes one would meet his gaze for a moment or two before turning away.

Never before had an entire group returned his stare and held it, and Eragon was startled to see the sheer amount of malice in their eyes.

It was a group of five men, and if Eragon had to guess, he'd expect they'd all be in their late twenties or early thirties. All were his height or slightly taller, though each had a more muscular frame. Nothing was particularly distinctive about them, the hair colors only ranging from light brown to black and skin tone uniformly tan. The only thing that set those five men apart from everyone else was the way they were staring with such hatred.

The Rider was the first to break the stare, turning to walk the final distance between himself and the door. If he quickened his pace, it wasn't consciously done.

He could still feel the eyes on his back, gazes somehow intensifying.

"Rider!"

At the sound of someone calling him, he instinctively turned towards the noise. Eragon's mind only noted the harsh tones with which his title had been said as he turned, just in time to see the fist coming at his face with not enough time to dodge.

The punch made contact with his cheek, snapping his head to the side and brushing passed his nose with enough force to break the delicate cartilage. The brunette stumbled back in shock, a hand coming up to see how bad the breakage was and somehow staunch the flow of blood. Eragon could feel the liquid running down his face, already to his neck though the hit had landed scarcely a moment ago.

Still confused by the sudden attack, Eragon couldn't block the kick that sent him stumbling five steps back. He was vaguely aware of the immediate area clearing, a ring forming around himself and his attacker.

Eragon's eyes quickly scanned the inside of the ring.

Attackers, he mentally corrected, seeing the five men that had been staring at him moments ago. The one closest to him, slightly taller than the rest with black hair, had blood on his knuckles. It was obvious who was responsible for the punch, and probably the kick too, as the other four were spread out around the circle, more towards the crowd than the fight.

The Rider moved to a defensive stance, wiping his bloody face on his sleeve and narrowing his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. The black-haired man just returned the glare.

"Giving you what you deserve, you freak!" The amount of venom in the final word was shocking.

Stunned, Eragon's guard dropped. The instant it did, the attacker lurched forward and swung. The Rider barely managed to dodge, more out of his own shock than speed or accuracy of the attack.

Even so, the blow grazed him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, blocking frantically as the man swung again. He was proud of himself for keeping his voice steady, though he knew his face had likely paled several shades. The man couldn't mean what Eragon thought he did, right?

The man growled angrily as the Rider blocked him, bringing his leg up to kick.

"You're a freak! Almost a week ago you were caught kissing another man!"

"How do you kno-?" Eragon cut himself off, but too many syllables too late. Though he hadn't finished the question, what he had said before his brain caught up was enough to confirm what the attacker said and to condemn Eragon.

The black-haired man snarled, leg whipping out.

"How can anyone expect a thing like you to lead the army!?"

Eragon blocked, but the force of the blow sent him two steps backwards. Before he could move, he felt someone grab his arms at the elbows and pin them behind his back. He tried to twist out of the grip, and got one of his arms free, but in response the grip around his other elbow tightened and another pair of hands grabbed the freed arm and pinned it back as well.

Jerking his head around, he could see two of the men who were with his attacker. He hadn't even noticed them sneak up behind him.

Vaguely, he noticed that the huge crowd watching was deadly quiet.

A knee to his stomach brought his attention back to the more pressing matter of the fight.

Eragon struggled in the harsh hands holding his arms, but the grips only tightened. He opened his mouth to cast a spell, anything that would free him, but was silenced as a fist hit his jaw.

The Rider spat blood before looking back at the black-haired man.

"Even working for a woman would be better than trusting you with our lives. At least the lady isn't a freak!"

With that, the man spat at Eragon. It hit his bruised cheek, leaving a slimy trail down his face.

The Rider's face burned with shame, humiliation, and anger. He opened his mouth to try and cast again, but a fierce blow to the ribs knocked the wind clear out of him. He gasped for breath, not even regaining it before a fierce backhand sent him stumbling back to press closer to the men holding his arms.

Another blow hit. Another.

Dully, Eragon looked beyond the attackers to the people in the circle. He could hear the man shouting more slurs against him, but the insults were far easier to tune out than the pain.

No one moved to help him. Every time he opened his mouth to cast a spell, the words would slip away either on the haze of pain caused by another blow or another hit to his face. He couldn't even move to get away from the pain and cast.

His hands tightened into fists. In any kind of fair fight, he would have been able to easily best the man now beating him, even if he and his supporters had come at once.

His eyes still searched through the crowd, unconsciously hoping to see a flash of black that he had subconsciously come to associate with safety.

Nothing.

He was living his worst nightmare, being beaten up for something he had done his best to repress, and no one was stepping forward to help him. The only person Eragon thought would step forward wasn't there, and it was all Eragon's fault.

Somehow, this whole ordeal might have been easier to bear if he had someone waiting for him, or even better, someone stepping in to help him get free and then thoroughly thump his attackers.

Was this how Talc had felt, all those years ago when Eragon had first heard of 'strangeness' as an impressionable young boy in Carvahall?

Eragon clung to hope, eyes still scanning the crowd when they finally landed on a familiar face.

The Rider could feel his eyes widen in shock; his sole consolation was that Roran seemed just as shocked, and perhaps (though this may have been wishful thinking) a bit horrified. Hope rose for a brief moment, then crashed to even lower depths as Roran's face grew colder and he looked away.

The farmer had seemed troubled as he looked away, but Eragon almost didn't care. This was the final proof that Roran had abandoned him. No one was coming to help him now. He could hear agitated mutterings run through the crowd, but it didn't seem pertinent and he ignored the sounds.

One last blow and Eragon let his head drop, chin touching chest. It burned inside of him to just submit to this, but he couldn't remember the words of the Ancient Language that would let him go and by now he knew his struggles would not only be ineffectual, they'd be pitiful.

The sound of knuckles on flesh and a yelp of pain not his own caused him to lift his head, albeit slowly because of the pain.

A man, fair-haired and tall, stood in place of the dark-haired man from earlier. Instead of a gaze filled with hate, however, the newcomer's green eyes were filled with compassion, only darkening to disgust when he looked at the men holding Eragon's arms back.

"Let him go."

Though the Rider couldn't see, he could feel the men shift uncertainly, doubtless looking from the newcomer to their black-haired leader. The darker-haired man was only now circling back to the newcomer, moving behind the fair-haired man and out of his line of sight.

Eragon opened his mouth to give a warning, but at that moment the dark-haired man leapt, swinging wildly.

The newcomer simply dodged, whipping one arm around to strike the aggressor's forehead and send the man almost comically to the ground.

The men holding Eragon dropped him almost in unison to attack the fair-haired man. The Rider almost fell at being suddenly released, but another pair of hands just as quickly grabbed him and pulled him back.

Eragon almost struck out, not wanting to be helpless again despite knowing that he couldn't hit very effectively with arms tired and tingling from the unnatural position they had been held in, but stopped.

The hands that grabbed him were gentle, not seeming to notice Eragon's aborted attack and instead moving one of the Rider's arms across a pair of bony but sturdy shoulders and propping him up before carefully turning and moving them away from the fight.

Eragon blinked in confusion, turning his head to see who had pulled him out of there, mouth opening to thank the person. It was another familiar face.

"Shh, Sir Eragon. It would be best if we got far away from that first." Krin said, moving through the crowd that parted for them, everyone scrambling to move out of their way as if one of them had a particularly nasty disease. Some, Eragon couldn't help noticing, seemed to move out of the way more out of respect than disgust.

His eyes panned the crowd as they moved.

"Where's-" he began, but cut himself off.

"Where's Murtagh?" Krin finished quietly. Eragon didn't respond, biting his lip instead. He didn't need to ask how Krin had figured out who he was asking about. Krin continued. "I'm not on guard duty today. Samil actually showed up, so I decided to train, practice against someone other than your brother."

For a moment, out of habit, Eragon fought the disappointment that rose in his chest.

They were silent for a moment, then Eragon looked back towards the center of the circle they were only now reaching the outer level of.

"Who was that?" he asked, hoping Krin would know. The face of the fair-haired man had seemed familiar, but Eragon couldn't quite place it.

The teenager shrugged.

"I don't know. I just grabbed you as soon as I could. I'm sorry for not acting sooner."

Shamefaced, the teen looked down as they continued walking.

"S'okay. No one else did anything either." Eragon murmured. "You couldn't have taken on all five by yourself anyway..."

"I could have at least tried!" Krin insisted, voice rising in volume. At Eragon's wince, for the shout had been almost directly in his ear, Krin sighed softly and quieted. "I'm sorry. I'll help you find someone to treat your injuries."

The Rider nodded. They had walked a few more steps before he spoke again, almost to the door of the castle.

"You don't... mind?" he asked. He felt more than saw Krin's questioning look. "About... what they said."

Everyone knew now, so there was no use in denying it. Even if Eragon couldn't quite accept it himself yet… He knew he was on his way to being able to accept himself, but years of repression and denial would not be undone by one small fistfight.

In the end, it seemed he hadn't been abandoned completely because of… what had happened with Murtagh.

He would stop repressing himself and trying to deny who he was. He was damned if he allowed himself to be what he had been told was taboo, but he was damned by denial as well.

Eragon's only regret was not coming to this realization before ruining any and all chances he had with the one person he actually wanted a relationship with. If anyone could have helped him accept himself, it would have been Murtagh.

Krin was quiet for a moment, apparently thinking over the question.

"After my parents died, you were my role model. That won't change just because you like men." Krin said finally. "It's weird and will take some getting used to, but that's no reason to beat you up like this or hate you."

Eragon smiled slightly.

"Thank you."

Krin just nodded in reply, and the two quietly passed through the castle door and into the lobby beyond.

TBC…

A/N: I know I am completely, 150 evil for not posting sooner! Small consolation- one more week of school and I'm off for Winter Break. I should be able to get several more chapters written, now that I'm back in the swing of things. I swear on my collection of anime and manga that I will have the next chapter out in less time than it took to post this one.

Sorry to all those who were expecting and wanted Murtagh in this chapter. I tried and tried, but the scene I was planning with him was not coming out right. Sorry also to anyone who thought this was OOC for how I'm writing Eragon, or Roran, etc. I tried!

(hides from rotten tomatoes) If anyone does think this is completely OOC, I can try rewriting it but it may take a while…


	29. Arya

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: Sorry, would have had this up earlier but FFnet didn't want to work on my laptop for a while…

Dedicated to Chizwiffle, my beta, and The Daxinator for the absolutely stunning review. (Completely floor and honored, The Dax!)

Chapter XI, Part B

It didn't take long at all for them to find a suitable healer. The injuries weren't bad nor many, but Eragon had to be in perfect shape for the upcoming battle. The march was scheduled for the next day.

They found Arya not long after climbing the stairs to one of the higher levels of the castle. The female elf had decided not to leave with the others, choosing instead to remain in the Varden where she felt she was most needed.

Her green eyes widened fractionally as she spotted Krin walking, occasionally helping support Eragon, in the otherwise deserted hallway.

"What happened?" she demanded of Krin, moving towards them. Eragon opened his mouth to answer, though the question hadn't been directed at him, but the teenager beat him to it.

"Eragon was attacked. They caught him by surprise and pinned him before he could do much damage, then used him as a punching bag." Krin's voice had traces of disgust and shame. "I grabbed him and got him out of there when a blonde man stepped into the fight."

Arya nodded, stopping as she reached the pair and tilted Eragon's chin to see the bruises, then doing the same with Eragon's arms. The men holding him back had actually bruised the flesh with their grip.

"Did either of you recognize the men who did this, or the one who stepped in? Do we know why they attacked?"

An awkward silence fell, Krin glancing uncertainly at Eragon and the Rider staring at the floor.

"No, we didn't recognize them." Eragon finally said, purposefully not answering the second question.

Arya let Eragon's arms fall back to his sides.

"These won't take much to heal, but I believe Nasuada should be informed of this as soon as possible. Krin," Arya said, catching the teen's eye. "- I want you to find her and direct her to my quarters. Tell her it's urgent."

Krin nodded and, with one last glance at Eragon, turned and left.

As soon as the guard's footsteps had faded and the teen had turned the corner, Arya turned to Eragon. She waited quietly for a moment, the silence pressing down on Eragon until he finally lifted his head.

"I know you could heal those bruises by yourself." Arya started the conversation. "I'm glad you came to me. I want to speak with you." She turned. "Follow me."

She began walking, only checking once to make sure Eragon didn't need her help and was following.

"I wanted to talk to you, too." Eragon told her quietly. The elf didn't seem surprised, only nodded as they quietly made their way to Arya's quarters.

Line Break

The near-silent trip was mercifully quick. Within minutes the pair had reached Arya's quarters. The elf opened the door smoothly, ushering Eragon in before stepping inside and shutting the door.

The room was small, a bit smaller than Eragon's room with the bed pushed against the far wall right beneath the small window that illuminated the entire room. A wardrobe with a picture of a half-woman, half-fish creature carved into the wood stood just to the right of bed, next to a door that presumably led to a bathroom.

There was a chair against the wall near the foot of the bed, carved wood with a red cushion. Arya motioned for the Rider to sit there before disappearing through the door to what, indeed, proved to be a bathroom.

Eragon sat down, hands clasped together as he stared down at the stone floor.

He took a deep breath. The injuries weren't exactly painful anymore, but the conversation that was about to unfold probably would be. Even though he knew Arya would accept his... abnormality, since he couldn't just stop thinking that his 'strangeness' was wrong somehow, but doubt never seemed to leave him alone.

Before he could make up his mind to slip quietly out of the door to Arya's room and avoid the elf for a few days, she was back, carrying a small bowl of water and a cloth.

She sat down on the very edge of her mattress at the foot of the bed, motioning Eragon to lean closer. He did, holding back an instinctive jerk when she pressed the now-wet cloth a bit too hard against his broken nose. Arya calmly and clinically wiped the blood from his face, the silence growing strained as only the soft sounds of wet cloth against skin could be heard.

Arya put the bowl down, water with only barely tinted with blood, after washing Eragon's face.

"I won't ask you to speak of what happened, but Nasuada will need to know so she can properly punish those responsible." Arya told him. "It may be easier if you've practiced telling the story once."

She reached for his face again.

"You don't have to tell me, but I would like to know." She frowned then, studying his broken nose. "I'll have to set that before healing it. It may hurt."

Eragon made a noise of acknowledgement. He had broken his nose before, so it wasn't too much of a shock when Arya set it back in place. It still hurt something terrible, but Eragon had experienced far worse pain before.

Any and all physical pain disappeared as Arya muttered 'waise heill' and moved her glowing lilac palm over the minor injuries.

Her hand hovered over his nose for a moment, and he could actually feel the cartilage knitting back together. Arya moved to the bruises on his face next, healing a blackening eye and his bruised cheek.

It was only when she motioned for his arms did he begin to speak.

"I didn't recognize the men who attacked me. My best guess is that they were some of the criminals who took the offer of a full pardon in return for fighting with the Varden's army." Eragon frowned. "What I don't understand is why they attacked me. I know it was because of..." He trailed off, then rephrased what he had been about to say. Arya, who had just finished healing his first arm, moved to his second, not asking him to clarify. "If Surda is so much more accepting than Alagaesia, I don't know why I was attacked."

Arya let his second arm go, fully healed. Eragon avoided her eyes, but if he had looked he would have been able to see sadness.

"There was much debate about a particular law when it was first passed; I mentioned this particular decree last time we spoke." Eragon nodded. At the time, the conversation had been particularly uncomfortable, but it wasn't such a bad memory now. "Not everyone agreed with it. You can probably imagine the uproar some people made. Those who disagreed passed their views on to their children, and those children passed the disagreement to their children... It's impossible to completely stamp out the hatred for the law, but it is a crime to hurt another based on who they love."

"So the men who attacked me were likely people who committed that particular crime?" Eragon asked, already seeing exactly what Arya was getting at. The elf nodded.

"That's the most likely explanation. The Varden has so few people to help fight as it is that Nasuada turned no one away."

Silence fell again, briefly, as Eragon nodded.

"You said earlier that you wanted to speak with me about something." Arya asked. Eragon nodded again. "Do you still want to talk to me?"

Eragon took a deep breath.

"I should." He lifted his head to meet her eyes. "You've probably known about... what I am... for a while now, right?"

Arya nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact as she studied the Rider. Her eyes held traces of confusion, but she didn't speak.

"I just need to know," Eragon paused, running his fingers through his hair absently. "- how can you accept it?"

"Eragon?" Arya's voice was filled with concern and surprise.

"Nothing changed." Eragon said quietly, talking more to himself than the elf. "I did something stupid. Everyone knows now, I guess, but the people who actually matter don't hate me for it. Well-" He amended his statement, eyes clouding over as two faces flashed through his mind in quick succession. "Two people who matter do."

One was the brother he had betrayed and would probably not speak to him for a long while, if ever. Rightfully so.

The other was the cousin he had always seen as a brother and should have expected the negativity from. Eragon had expected it, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

All was quiet as Arya thought over her words.

"The elves have always accepted love for what it is." she told him. "We marry for as long as we like, love who we want to, and never in my memory have we had a problem in regards to love."

Eragon nodded.

"It's how a person is raised that determines their thoughts on this subject, Eragon." Arya gently touched Eragon's hands, which he realized he had clenched into fists. "I can't tell you how to accept yourself, since I have never had to struggle with accepting relationships between two of the same sex. It's part of my culture. I've been raised to accept such things."

Eragon nodded again, this time more slowly. His shoulders sagged a bit. Noticing this, Arya continued.

"Try not to resist your emotions. Allowing yourself to feel what you feel and following your heart may help-" She stopped, eyes widening slightly as Eragon tensed, looking at the floor.

The Rider bit his lip as the memory of the only time he had 'followed his heart' flooded into his head, guilt weighing on him heavily as he recalled the only kiss he had shared with Murtagh.

"Eragon? Is something wrong?" Arya asked softly, leaning over to try and figure out what was distressing her friend.

She frowned upon seeing exactly how distressed Eragon looked. Arya opened her mouth to call his name again when Eragon cut her off.

"I followed my heart once. My head interfered and that led to the attack earlier." Eragon's voice was bitter. "My heart has always been ready to accept me as I am, but my head told me it was wrong. My heart wanted to give into my desires, and my head turned it into a perfect plan to prove that I... wasn't like this. That I wasn't attracted to Murtagh."

He had finally said it. It felt strange on his tongue, to finally admit that he had a romantic interest in another man, but at the same time it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

It was a step in the right direction.

The story poured out of him. He told Arya of his plan, how he would get Murtagh to kiss him and then gently let the other Rider down and hopefully remain friends. In hindsight, that plan probably would have failed, but it wouldn't have blown up so badly. He told her how Roran had stumbled upon them, giving a brief summary of Roran's past actions when faced with such relationships.

The elf remained quiet, allowing him to speak and express the emotions he had kept bottled inside of him.

Eragon told Arya how he had felt so guilty and so alone, having not seen Murtagh since the kiss.

Finally, he fell silent. His breathing was heavy, not having paused much for breath while talking, almost afraid he would stop.

"Oh, Eragon..." There was no pity, only compassion in Arya's voice. That was good; Eragon didn't know if he could take pity at the moment. While it had been good for him to finally get the story out in the open, even if only to one person not directly involved, part of him was just waiting for a negative reaction. Pity would have definitely been negative.

"If you talk to Murtagh and explain, perhaps he would be willing to give you another chance...?" Arya said, though it was obvious she knew how unlikely it was, and knew that Eragon knew it too.

The Rider shook his head.

"He would probably think it was another one of my 'plans'. I would too, if I were him."

Silence. There really was no comforting response to such a statement. The elf just squeezed Eragon's hand lightly in an attempt at comfort.

"I used him, Arya." Eragon said, voice thick with emotion. "I haven't seen him since. No relationship could be salvaged from how I betrayed him."

"Don't give up." Arya told him softly. "I'm sure that Murtagh's feelings for you couldn't have so easily morphed into hate."

At Eragon's incredulous look, she hurriedly continued.

"I know you betrayed him and I know that it must have hurt him terribly from what you've told me-" Eragon flinched at the reminder, but Arya pressed on. "- but love is illogical. Just as your head couldn't convince your heart that your love is wrong, Murtagh's mind may not convince his heart that his feelings for you are now void because of what you did."

"If his heart has already turned against me than it doesn't matter whether or not his head agrees." Eragon pointed out.

"Love often lives on beyond all kinds of events; a fight, a death, and even a betrayal."

"Not this kind of betrayal."

Arya was quiet for a moment.

"Learn to accept yourself fully for who you are and then see if he will give you another chance." she said finally. Eragon laughed, the sound hollow and dark.

"I'll accept myself and then I'll work on earning his forgiveness. That's all. Even that's probably more than I deserve, since I wouldn't forgive a person who used me in such a way."

The pair fell into silence and remained that way until Nasuada finally arrived, Krin trailing behind her.

Line Break

The conversation with Nasuada had been brief and to the point. Upon hearing about the attack, the eyes of the young leader of the Varden had grown cold and grim. She had assured Eragon that the criminals would be placed back behind bars, no reduced sentence and certainly no pardon as soon as the ones responsible for the attack were identified. Someone was bound to have recognized the men.

The unofficial meeting between the four of them had broken up soon after, Nasuada being needed to oversee the preparations for the march the next day. Krin had presumably gone back to the training fields. Arya had remained in her room.

Eragon headed to his own room. The day had been emotionally exhausting and it would be best if he rested as much as possible from now until the actual battle.

There was only one thing he had to do before resting.

He kicked off his boots and hung his cloak up. He shut the door to his room and lay down on his bed.

Then, for the first time in much too long, he allowed his mind to open and seek out his connection with his dragon.

(Saphira?) he called, a bit hesitant. He knew his mental voice would reach her, but he wasn't sure how angry she would be with him for keeping her from his mind for so long.

There was a dim, almost drowsy acknowledgement from the other side of the link, and then his dragon's mind snapped to full awareness.

(Eragon?) He could hear shock and happiness, then felt the emotions grow distant. (So you finally decided to let me back into your mind?)

He would have felt hurt at the coolness in the blue dragon's voice if he had not already exhausted his emotions for the day and didn't know he so rightly deserved it.

(I'm sorry for shutting you out. I had some... things to work out.)

(What 'things' couldn't you share with me?) Her voice dropped, almost as if she didn't want him to hear her next thought. (I missed you. Lately you've only come to see me when you need my help and never just to share how your day has been.)

(I know. I'm sorry. I can share the 'things' I couldn't share before. That is, if you want me to.)

(Of course I do, little one. Are these 'things' the things that have been bothering you so terribly lately?)

(Yes. I wasn't ready to share them before.) Eragon still wasn't sure he was completely ready, but it didn't feel right to keep this from Saphira any longer.

(Then share, Eragon.)

Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, he allowed the memories he had been carefully keeping from Saphira to surface, letting them flow along their link.

He relived each moment of confusion and disgust with himself, physically flinching at some of the more painful memories, but he let the memories come.

Saphira was quiet while she learned exactly what her Rider had been thinking and doing while she had been kept in the dark. She didn't speak once the memories stopped.

His confidence not exactly bolstered by the silence, Eragon spoke.

(Saphira?) He wasn't sure exactly what he expected to hear from her. It crossed his mind that he had no clue how Saphira would react to the information, having no prior knowledge of her experience with matters of same-sex relationships.

(You thought I would have rejected you for such a thing?) Saphira sounded a bit hurt and surprised, but not angry. (Eragon, this has never been a secret to me. Your feelings for Murtagh and your doubts and prejudices against your emotions were already a part of you before you began to block me.)

(They were...?) Eragon felt like kicking himself. Of course they had been.

(I'm glad it was only this that you hid from me.) Eragon could feel a sudden surge of anger over the link. (But never keep things from me again. Also, I would like a chance with the men who hurt you.) Protectiveness echoed strongly through their connection.

Eragon hadn't quite known what to expect from telling his dragon and partner, but he hadn't expected her to already know.

She had never questioned it, just quietly accepted it without a word. Somehow, it only magnified the guilt he felt over having shut her out.

(I won't keep you from my thoughts again. And Saphira...) Eragon smiled thinly. (Thank you.)

Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for never questioning me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for wanting to get revenge for me, even though you already know the men responsible will be sent to prison.

Thank you for being there.

(No thanks are required, but you're welcome. Now rest up. I can tell you're exhausted. When we next speak I'll share the few interesting events in my life you've missed.) Eragon could feel guilt rise up again and was about to apologize again when he realized that Saphira had been teasing with that last line, not angry.

When she continued, however, she was serious.

(I do want you to rest. The battle ahead will be our hardest yet and I'll be worried enough about protecting you without you being exhausted on top of that.)

(You rest as well, then. I don't want to lose you either, and you'll be in more danger.)

Saphira sent him the mental version of an affectionate nudge, then closed the link to an almost unnoticeable connection.

Eragon smiled, allowing the warmth of the bond to wash over him before sending his own affection to Saphira and closing his eyes.

It didn't take long for him to fall deeply asleep.

_Floating. The world flashed by beneath him, dark and cold. In the world of darkness, he was the only source of light._

_The world stopped moving, coming to a halt and leaving him in front of an almost impossibly large mountain._

_The world, the scenery... it blinked out of existence, and then just as suddenly came back, but this time he was inside the mountain._

_There was an enormous hollow chamber within the mountain. In the very center of the stone 'floor' of the chamber lay a oddly glowing rock, the stone almost transparent but glowing. Directly above that, though a great distance away, was the only entrance to this chamber, a crater at the top of the mountain._

_It was powerful, this mysterious stone._

_He took two steps forward. On the other side of the stone, something moved._

_A dragon._

_It's silver scales were thin with age, but they still reflected the light from the stone._

_It bowed to him, and he could sense it was about to speak-_

_The dream faded._

TBC… 

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed and there wasn't too much OOC…

I should have the next chapter up in two or three weeks. (I don't have it written yet, but there are still a few days left to Winter Break! I'll do my best to get it ready to post ASAP!)


	30. Probation Ends

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: Sorry for the delay, folks! Please enjoy! (Note: I didn't have time to get to review replies, since I assumed people would want me to post first and reply later. I will get to review replies for last chapter over the weekend and will likely reply on or around Sunday.)

In Dreams XII

Murtagh lay quietly on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His guard, Samil, was sitting by the wall on the opposite side of the room, working on a small block of wood with a knife.

The only audible sound was the scrape of metal against wood, nothing near distracting enough to pull Murtagh from his thoughts. If it were Krin, and not Samil, guarding the red Rider there may have been a chance for conversation, but Samil didn't exactly give off an air of friendliness.

Murtagh would have contacted Thorn, but when he had quietly opened the mental connection fully in order to talk, he could sense that Thorn was already deep in conversation with Saphira. While he knew his dragon wouldn't resent him for joining in the discussion, he also sensed that Thorn wanted to spend some time just with Saphira. He had quietly withdrawn, allowing the link to partially close so as not to eavesdrop.

The Rider couldn't stop his thoughts from traveling back to the night he had kissed Eragon. The memory still made his heart clench and chest tight. His mind kept replaying that night over and over again, and all he could do was wonder what would have happened if he hadn't kissed Eragon, or if that man, Roran, hadn't come along...

The wound was still painfully fresh.

There were too many 'if's regarding that night. If Krin had come with, Eragon wouldn't have kissed him. If only Murtagh had thought more about what he was doing before kissing Eragon, if only he hadn't dismissed the odd look in the blue Rider's eyes-

It would almost be better if he could hate Eragon for what he did. If anyone, he blamed himself.

That was perhaps the worst part about his current situation; his feelings hadn't changed. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that they would be reciprocated, even if it had seemed like Eragon was leaning towards him after the first kiss-

Murtagh killed that line of thinking instantly.

His feelings wouldn't be returned. He knew that. He had probably known all along.

That hadn't stopped him from hoping, then leaping on a chance when it was presented to him. He had no one to blame but himself, since he should have realized that something wasn't right and resisted, found out the truth before acting upon his desires.

After the kiss, Murtagh had felt awful. Used. Hurt. Angry.

The anger had passed quickly. The red Rider hadn't expected it to, but rather expected it to stay and fester like the anger he had felt for the other people who had used his emotions against him. The feeling of being used and hurt had dulled, but both were still present.

Even so, he still loved Eragon. Murtagh himself had been surprised when he found he couldn't hate the blue Rider, but had come to terms with the fact that the emotions would probably stay with him for a very long time. It didn't make much sense when he thought about it logically, but somewhere in his heart there was a tiny bit of hope he couldn't get rid of.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Samil glanced towards the noise before sighing and putting away the block of wood- which was now showing signs of turning into a small wooden horse - and carving knife. Murtagh pushed himself to a sitting position, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, while Samil stood and moved towards the door. He answered it, opening the door impatiently.

"Yeah? What d'ya want?" he asked. Leaning over to see past the guard, Murtagh could see a small messenger girl.

The girl nodded politely, her black ponytail bobbing with the motion.

"Lady Nasuada would like to see the Rider in her office." she said in a monotone, staring up at Samil. The guard just grunted before nodding and shifting to see Murtagh.

"You heard her. Git up." he commanded. Not exactly pleased with being ordered, but not in the mood to argue, Murtagh stood. He slipped his feet into his boots, always kept next to the bed for easy access.

Once on, he followed Samil along the now-familiar route to the Varden leader's office, wondering why she wanted to see him this time.

Line Break

The trip to Nasuada's office didn't take long. Before ten minutes had passed, Samil and Murtagh were at the door.

The guard knocked twice.

"The Rider an' I are here." he stated gruffly, then waited.

"Well, come on in then." The voice, while female, didn't sound like it belonged to Nasuada. Confusion flickered across Murtagh's face, but Samil merely nodded and opened the door. When Murtagh didn't move, Samil grabbed his arm and shoved him roughly into the room. Murtagh stumbled only slightly, glancing around the room.

There was only one other person in the room, sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Nasuada's desk. Trianna.

The spellcaster had been looking at the door. When she noticed Murtagh looking back at her, she glared and turned to face the desk.

Curious as to why Trianna was in Nasuada's office and not Nasuada herself, Murtagh surreptitously studied the woman while he sat down in the unoccupied chair in front of Nasuada's desk. Samil entered the room, a soft scrape of wood on stone sounding as the guard shut the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Murtagh saw Samil give Trianna a polite nod before moving to stand behind Murtagh's chair, arms crossed. The magician nodded once, briefly, in acknowledgement.

The silence quickly turned from strained to oppressive as Trianna shot an occasional glare at the Rider.

After several minutes of cold stares, Murtagh finally turned to face her.

"Why are you-" he began, but was interrupted by the sound of the door. All three of the rooms occupants turned at the scraping sound, watching as Nasuada appeared in the doorway.

The Varden's leader glanced around the small room as if checking if the people she requested were present. Confirming that they were, she continued across the room and around the desk to sit in her chair. She seemed exhausted, her shoulders slightly slumped and body radiating weariness. Even so, Nasuada sat straight up at her desk, rubbing ones of her temples lightly with one hand.

"Trianna. Murtagh. Samil." She acknowledged them each in turn with a slight incline of her head. "I have pressing matters to deal with, so we'll make this meeting short."

Her dark eyes met Murtagh's for a moment, studying him. He stared back evenly, not entirely sure what she was searching. Whatever it was, Nasuada must have found it and she opened her mouth to speak.

"We start marching for the final battle tomorrow. We only have a short amount of time left until this battle, and it would be foolish to let one of our strongest soldiers go out to fight while he's handicapped." She took a deep breath. "I hereby end your probition status. Your magic will be unsealed and I will no longer require a guard. I warn you not to 'practice' on the other members of the Varden without their consent."

Murtagh blinked in surprise. Whatever he had expected the meeting to be about - though, he had to admit, he hadn't been thinking too hard about said meeting and had formed no expectations - it hadn't been this. Recent... events involving a certain brother of his had distracted him almost completely from the matter of his magic and probation.

Not that said recent events were the only things plaguing his mind.

The battle with Galbatorix had been cause for contemplation as well. Especially a certain spell-

Bile rose in his throat as unwanted memories began to surface. He clamped down on the feeling, pushing it to the back of his mind for the moment.

No one seemed to notice his brief lapse in attention.

"- don't give me cause to regret this, Murtagh." Nasuada finished.

"I won't." the Rider said. Trianna let out a noise suspiciously like a snort of disbelief, but he ignored her.

Nasuada studied him for a moment more before nodding and turning to the magician.

"Trianna, remove the seal. After you do so, you may leave. I know you have other projects and thank you for your time."

Trianna nodded respectfully, though her eyes made it clear she did not relish the duty she was given.

"Of course, my Lady."

Trianna stood, the chair squeaking against the stone floor. With two quick steps, she was standing before Murtagh.

It didn't take as long as Murtagh remembered for Trianna to call up her magic. The pink glow engulfed her hand in the matter of moments and then she placed her hand against his forehead.

"Jierda malthinae." Trianna spoke clearly. Murtagh could feel her magic rush through his body again, burning cold, but unlike last time she had needed to undo the seal, this was over quickly. The cold burn rushed through him, stripping his magic of the fetters Trianna had placed there, and then it was over.

Trianna looked away from him almost as soon as she removed her hand, turning quickly to face Nasuada and leaning forward slightly in a near-imperceptible bow. The magician then left, door scraping shut behind her.

Nasuada looked at Samil next.

"I thank you for your hard work. The Rider is now off probation, so you will be able to devote what is left of the time before the battle for training. You're dismissed."

"Thanks, m'Lady." Samil mumbled, bowing before he, too, left.

Murtagh didn't move. Nasuada looked quizzically at him for a moment.

"You're dismissed too, Murtagh." she said.

Murtagh shook his head.

"I should have said something a while back - when you first captured me," he began slowly. " - but prisoners or Varden members on probation can't exactly request a private audience with the Varden's leader."

He lapsed into silence, gathering his thoughts.

Nasuada just watched him, eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion.

"And what did you need to tell me that you could not with others present?" she asked.

"Information about one of Galbatorix's spells." Murtagh replied. Briefly, his mind flashed back to his first meeting with Thorn after being freed from Galbatorix's binding spell. This particular spell was what had infuriated his dragon; this spell was a 'crime against life itself', as Thorn had termed it. "I thought I should warn you, or at least give you the information and let you decide what to do with it."

"One of his spells?" Nasuada said quietly. Murtagh nodded, memories of the spell being performed in front of him flashing before his eyes.

"I don't know of a way to block it, or if blocking it is even possible with the amount of power Galbatorix has." Murtagh paused, then looked directly into Nasuada's eyes. "This spell is how his power has been growing all these years. He can use it to help himself-"

"-heal, right? Among other things." Nasuada finished for him. Her face looked sickly pale, as color had begun to leech from it as Murtagh had described the spell. Startled, Murtagh nodded.

"So you know of it?" he asked. Nasuada looked away.

"My father, Ajihad, used to be a tactician for the King's army. A commander tried to go traitor, and that spell is what Galbatorix used to punish him. It wasn't long after that my father fled and founded the Varden with Brom. He told me stories about... what happened to to traitor so I would know what kind of monster I would have to deal with when my father... passed."

Her voice had grown thick with emotion at the mention of her father, but she tried to hide it.

"There's still no way to block it?" she asked. Murtagh shook his head.

"If I knew I would have told you. What I can tell you is that it tears through any magical block erected and passes through any physical shield. Both have been attempted." Hazel eyes grew haunted as the Rider recalled the dying screams of those who had tried and failed to block the spell, their voices echoing in his mind. "He's forced me to watch him perform the spell before, so believe me when I say they'll fail."

Nasuada nodded. They were silent for a moment, then Nasuada spoke again.

"There's no way to block it and, from what my father told me, impossible to stop once hit." Nasuada glanced at Murtagh for confirmation, and he nodded mutely.

Her voice choked up, a hint of desperation entering it.

"I need all the magicians I can get. We're outnumbered as it is - I sent word to the elves, but I don't know how many warriors or magicians they could supply us. No matter how many, we're still outnumbered. I can't afford to lose any of the Du Vrangr Gata now, not to mention all the fighters that would desert-"

She cut herself off, taking a deep breath to calm down. It was several minutes before she could speak again.

"I must ask you not to tell anyone. I've already warned my magicians to be wary of powerful magic from Galbatorix, especially when he's injured, but I'll make sure I tell them to be doubly careful. A spell that takes your life is something to fear-"

"I don't know how much your father saw, but it does worse than that." Murtagh quietly told her. "There are worse things to lose than simply your life."

Nasuada swallowed and nodded.

"Do you know if there is any way to... avoid it?" she asked. Murtagh thought for a moment, moving his gaze to the floor.

"Most magic is an instantaneous movement of energy from the caster to the person they're casting on. It's so quick it's almost completely unavoidable and most cannot see it. The King's spell is a good deal slower than average, so someone who is quick may be able to dodge. It's still extremely fast, but it can be dodged if you know it's coming and if you're fast enough."

"Most people won't be." Nasuada said, more to herself than Murtagh. The Varden's leader leaned back in her chair, putting a hand to her forehead. "I hope no one else has to witness it. I thank you for telling me."

Sensing their meeting was over, Murtagh stood and turned to leave.

A frantic knocking on the door stopped him. Nasuada looked at the heavy slab of wood in the doorway as it rattled in its frame.

"My Lady!" a voice called, sounding a bit breathless. "Permission to enter?"

"Yes, come in." Nasuada replied, sitting straight up again. Murtagh moved to the side of the room, pressing himself against the wall so he would remain unnoticed.

The person outside burst into the room, face red and breaths coming in pants as though he had been running.

"Have you found them?" Nasuada demanded. Murtagh's gaze flicked from the messenger - now nodding his head vigorously - to Nasuada. He began to slip along the edge of the room, heading for the door again when the messenger's voice stopped him.

"We've found Rider Eragon's attackers and they have been arrested, my Lady. The man who stepped in to help the Rider has not been found, but we're working on that. We made finding the attackers our top priority, and they just await your final judgment." the boy said.

'Attackers?' Murtagh thought, shock rooting him to the spot. He stared at the messenger, who had yet to notice him, then looked towards Nasuada.

Fierce determination and satisfaction were etched into her face and she pushed herself from her chair.

"Take me to them. I have already decided an appropriate punishment for their crime and would like to pass it now."

The messenger nodded, then turned and caught sight of Murtagh.

The boy jumped, glancing uncertainly from Nasuada to the red Rider. Murtagh only looked at the Varden's leader.

"Eragon was attacked?" he asked dumbly. "Why? Why did no one tell me?"

"You mean you didn't hear?" the boy blurted out as Nasuada opened her mouth to speak. "Sir Eragon got attacked this morning and everyone's heard by now!"

Murtagh was not in the most patient of moods, worry quickly overwhelming the automatic hurt and anger that sprung up whenever Eragon's name was uttered. It was all he could do to keep staring levelly at Nasuada instead of glaring at the messenger boy.

"Eragon was attacked earlier today when he was leaving the training grounds. A few men cornered him and grabbed him because there was a rumor going around that someone had seen Eragon kissing another man." She met his stare evenly. "A man who was dressed all in black, in the rumors are to be believed."

The red Rider had a feeling the dark-skinned woman knew more than she was letting on, but didn't press the matter. His hands, which had been resting at his sides, tightened into fists. His nails dug into his palm.

"I see." he said, turning to go with a stiff nod in Nasuada's direction.

"Murtagh," The Rider in question paused. " - unless you have completely given up on him, talk to Eragon. While it was awful for him to be hurt over this, something good may yet come of it."

The messenger boy glanced curiously from Nasuada to Murtagh, but stayed quiet.

Murtagh lingered for a moment more, then began to walk away. He could hear the footsteps of the messenger and the Varden's leader head out of the office behind him and then head in the opposite direction.

As their footsteps faded and he grew closer to his room, he allowed his thoughts to slip from his surroundings and thought more deeply on what exactly Nasuada meant.

Perhaps he had been wrong to completely abandon hope before. Maybe there was still a chance, and though Murtagh now knew better than to risk his heart on false words... maybe, if he observed Eragon carefully and saw that the blue Rider sincerely wanted to apologize and perhaps try-

He cut that train of thought short.

It probably wouldn't happen.

TBC...

A/N: And another chapter comes to a close… Stay tuned! The next chapter should be up within a month. (I make no promises beyond that – my schedule has been pretty hectic lately.)


	31. Meeting

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

In Dreams XII, Part B 

The march had begun at dawn.

The sun had been just barely visible over the horizon, and the weak sunlight had illuminated the Varden's preparations for the long trek ahead. Any soldiers already ready had helped to gather the necessary foodstuffs and tie the animals carrying the food together. Animals were hooked to wagons, food was loaded, and there was much hustle and bustle.

The number of soldiers had been impressive for a rebellion.

For a rebellion.

Murtagh didn't have much to pack, since he didn't own many things. The only things he needed were things he was easily able to carry - his cloak and Za'roc. Food would be provided and he had no other clothes.

The darkly clad Rider had attempted to help prepare, but the atmosphere had been less than welcoming every time he tried. When trying to help gather food he had been granted suspicious looks from nearly everyone, and he wasn't allowed near the other weapons.

Some members of the Varden were slower to trust than Nasuada.

At first, Murtagh had figured that it was simply because he had betrayed them before. Still, that didn't explain everything. Mixed in with the distrustful glances were hate-filled glares, and there seemed to be an upsurge in the amount of hate directed at him. Equally inexplicable were the few tentative yet supportive smiles he received, though most of the smiles had disappeared the moment he looked twice.

It slowly dawned on him the reason for the odd glances he had been getting.

Murtagh may have needed to hear about the attack on Eragon many hours after the fact, but he had kept his ear to the ground ever since. Somehow, the fact that Eragon had kissed another man had circulated to every ear and information - surprisingly accurate - had been added on to the rumor.

It seemed as though everyone in the Varden now knew about what should have been a secret between Eragon and Murtagh. The whole Varden knew that Eragon had been caught kissing a man dressed from head to foot in black, and the only person who wore black just so happened to be Eragon's traitorous brother.

In a sort of backhand blessing, most chose to focus on the fact that Eragon had been kissing a man instead of the fact that said man was his brother. With such scandalous information, few chose to dwell on the less earth-shattering matter of their blood relation.

Murtagh wouldn't pretend that their shared blood won them any fans; it had probably lost them a few who would have supported them, but it wasn't as damaging as it could have been.

The sun was just reaching the apex of the sky when the march came to a halt. Murtagh had been walking next to Thorn the entire time, both Rider and dragon lost in their own thoughts. Saphira had been walking next to Thorn, though she had been silent as well.

Or perhaps Thorn and Saphira had been talking during the first half-day of marching. Murtagh had been distracted, mostly with thoughts on Eragon, as he hadn't seen the blue Rider since Eragon had been attacked.

The two dragons settled down onto the ground to rest themselves while the rest of the Varden army ate. Now more than ever they needed to keep their strength up with the battle looming so near.

Murtagh nodded his goodbye to the ruby and sapphire dragons before heading up the long marching line to see if he could find something to eat. Bread and cheese would likely be lunch that day, since stopping long enough to light fires and cook meat would be time-consuming. Strength was important, yes, but time was also vital and bread and cheese would do for lunch.

A line of soldiers was already forming at the nearest wagon. Murtagh quietly took his place behind two tall men, one blonde and one with dark brown hair.

The soft shuffle of feet on grass caught and temporarily held Murtagh's attention. He glanced behind himself, not surprised to see several soldiers get into line behind him, though standing several feet back. One, the shortest of the bunch, wore a look of undisguised hate, though the three others simply seemed mistrustful.

Murtagh turned his focus back to the line, surprised to see that it had moved a few paces. He took a few leisurely steps to stand just behind the blonde and brunette.

Behind him, he could hear the soft shuffle of footsteps and then quiet voices arguing.

"I don't like it. He's standin' there, bold as brass, like he has any sort 'a right to be here." The Rider took that to be the man who had worn the look of hatred. The voice was deep, which was surprising as the man had been short.

"So what are you going to do, attack him in broad daylight while we wait for bread?" This voice was slightly exasperated, as though this argument had taken place a few times before. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Murtagh gave the voice a face - the willowy black-haired man standing just to the left of the short leader.

"Maybe I will." the leader retorted.

The red Rider could feel the leader's eyes drilling holes in his back.

"Don'tcha remember what happened to Fil and those guys who attacked the other Rider? I hear some blonde guy took 'em all out and then all five of 'em got sent back to prison with doubled sentences. Rebin just had a month left, too, but the Lady doubled their original sentence. He'll be there for another twenty years."

The voice belonged to a slightly chubby and dark-haired man on the leader's right. It gave Murtagh quite a bit of satisfaction to hear that Eragon's attackers were being dealt with. Their punishments could have been worse and if he had had the power Murtagh would have made certain that more severe steps were taken, but that was simply his protective instincts.

The last of the party, a thin brunette, bobbed his head in apparent agreement to what the stout man had just said.

"Tho' the way I heard it, they was all gonna be jailed for life. Guessin' the Lady don't have enough sway over the King ta make that happen. Way I hear, she was angry enough to spit fire when she heard 'bout it."

"So? I still want to fight him." The shortest of the lot protested, dark eyes gleaming. "He's a traitor- Fil and them made a mistake trying to take on the other Rider, no one will care if we attack this one-"

"I want to live through this battle, thanks." It was the willowy black-haired man again. "We have a better chance if both he and Sir Eragon are in top form when they fight."

The line had moved again, but Murtagh remained in place.

It was odd, hearing someone defend him in such a way. He was used to being called a traitor, but it was odd to hear someone defend him, even place some measure of confidence in him.

So, the goodwill he had generated by being completely non-threatening during his probation period had not been completely lost, even among those who disagreed with his choice in affections.

He listened for a moment more to see what the leader would reply, but the leader simply growled and then quieted down.

Murtagh moved forward to catch up to the line, absently noting that he was getting close to the front.

Who else might have placed some sort of confidence in his abilities? Murtagh didn't doubt his own power, even though he knew he wasn't near powerful enough to take on Galbatorix toe-to-toe.

The thought triggered another, a familiar trail of thoughts he had often walked the past few days.

Even thinking about the source of Galbatorix's unnatural and dark power was enough to bring a scowl, and worry.

He had to prevent the use of that spell, that one spell above all others.

If only they could come up with a block-

He was torn from his thoughts when he bumped into the two men in front of him. Lost in thought, he hadn't realized the line had stopped moving. The 'collision' wasn't strong, just enough to announce his presence and absentminded state.

Murtagh stepped back slightly as the brunette he had bumped into turned to see who had knocked into him.

The Rider just nodded politely.

"Sorry. Wasn't watching." he muttered.

The brown-haired man's face, which had been previously wearing a slightly puzzled expression, cleared. He nodded in return and turned to his blonde companion, pulling lightly on the other man's shirt.

The blonde leaned over slightly. The action, Murtagh noted, reduced the already oddly small distance between the two men. Neither seemed particularly uncomfortable at the proximity, or when the brunette's lips almost brushed the blonde's ear as the slightly shorter and darker-haired man whispered to the blonde.

Murtagh watched them, part curiosity and part lack of anything better to do.

The brunette now wore a smile and looked back once or twice at the red Rider. The blonde glanced back as well, green eyes studying Murtagh for a moment before turning their focus back to the brunette.

Then the couple reached the front of the line and moved to get their share of food. Murtagh mentally shrugged, happy it was finally his turn for lunch and that he would now be able to return to Thorn and eat in peace.

The lady in the wagon in charge of food shoved a hunk of bread and small portion of cheese into his hand without looking at him and impatiently waved him away, already turning to grab more food for the group behind him.

The red Rider had just begun walking back to where he had left Thorn and Saphira when a cautious hand tapped him on the shoulder. Slightly surprised, he turned.

The blonde man and the brunette were behind him, the blonde obviously the one who tapped.

"Would you like to eat with us?" the blonde offered. The invitation seemed sincere enough, but it puzzled the Rider as he hadn't made any friends in the Varden and he couldn't remember ever meeting the two men in front of him.

"Do I... know you?" Murtagh asked anyway, just to be certain they weren't just old aquaintances he had somehow forgotten.

The blonde shook his head.

"We've never met."

Murtagh waited for the man to add on to his sentence. When it became apparent the man was waiting for him to speak, Murtagh sighed.

How exactly did one say 'then give me one good reason to eat with you', politely?

To the surprise of the Rider, it was the brunette who spoke up next.

"You haven't even introduced us. You should at least give the man our names before asking him to eat with us." The brunette stepped up to Murtagh, extending a hand. The Rider shook it.

"I'm Eldan." the dark-haired man said. "The blonde one there is Talc. I tend to screw simple introductions up, so I usually leave things up to him." Eldan shot a playful frown over to the blonde.

"Of course, this time Talc screwed things up. Has to happen sometimes."

Something was reflecting sunlight from Eldan's left hand. While Talc and Eldan bickered lightly, Murtagh studied the glint.

It was coming from a ring on the man's ring finger.

Suspicions growing, Murtagh's hazel eyes darted to Talc's left hand. A ring glittered there as well.

It was Talc who caught him looking.

"Ah, yes. You've noticed our rings." Talc held his hand up so the plain golden band showed clearly in the light. "Eldan's my husband. Everyone's heard about what happened between you and Eragon by now and he seemed to think it would be a good idea to try and meet you."

Murtagh glanced at the brunette, who shrugged.

"I thought you could use a friend. Talc and I joined the Varden just recently, when they were asking for recruits, and weren't really affected by the whole-" Eldan made large circles with his hands, a frown of concentration on his face as though unsure of what to say. "-you being a traitor. Temporarily anyway, and only because of some spell or other, from what I've heard. Talc warned me that the Varden might not be friendly to people like us, considering that most of the Varden come from parts of Alagaesia, but it was still a nasty shock for me."

Murtagh wasn't entirely sure what to make of his new aquaintances, as he could honestly say his first meeting with someone had never gone quite like this.

Eldan's words did hold some merit. While Murtagh wasn't exactly lonely, it would be nice to have company other than that of Thorn for a while.

Talc and Eldan were waiting for his reply. Slowly, the Rider nodded.

"Where shall we be sitting?" Murtagh asked.

Both Eldan and Talc grinned.

"This way." With that said, Talc turned and began walking further up the line. Eldan fell into step next to him, smiling warmly at Murtagh before facing forward.

The trio slowly made their way up the line, Murtagh wondering what kind of company he'd managed to find himself.

Lunch would certainly be interesting.

TBC…

A/N: I know that this chapter wasn't the longest, but I tried! Writer's block has hit me hard and I'm also in my school's reading contest and trying to win that. That, and this story keeps running away with me when I do try to write it. (Almost this entire chapter deviated from what I had expected, but hopefully the deviation wasn't too bad?)


	32. Lunch

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: Sorry, I know it has been over a month since I updated… Please don't give up on me, I swear I'll see this through to the end!

In Dreams XII, Part C

Eldan and Talc led Murtagh to a small, thin tree. The married men sat next to each other, close enough that their shoulders were always brushing, while Murtagh sat a foot or two away. All three were under the shade of the tree and facing each other.

Not entirely certain what to say to start out the conversation, Murtagh mentally contacted Thorn.

The dragon responded with annoyance.

(Why aren't you back yet? I thought you just had to walk to the wagon to get food.) Underlying the annoyed tone was worry.

(Sorry; I was invited to eat with some of the Varden members. I can come back-)

Thorn interrupted.

(It's fine. I just wanted to know where you were; you're not exactly the most beloved warrior here in the eyes of the Varden. I wanted to be sure nothing had happened.)

After reassuring his dragon that he was fine, Murtagh said goodbye and closed the link.

The Rider began picking at his food, biting off small hunks of cheese and following those with pieces of bread. He quietly studied his companions.

Both wore common, everyday clothes most people wore in Surda. Sturdy leather pants and boots with thin shirts to complete the outfits. Talc wore a brown leather vest as well.

Currently, the two were leaning subtly against one another, exceedingly comfortable with one another. Talc was smiling softly and Eldan was grinning, both eating their lunch as if they had all the time in the world and a battle for the fate of Surda was not just days away.

For a moment, Murtagh allowed himself to wonder how it would be if he and Eragon were as comfortable and easy around each other as Eldan and Talc. A pang of jealousy and longing shot through him and he averted his eyes.

The meal passed by in relative silence for a few more minutes before Eldan spoke.

"Well, this isn't awkward in the least..." he began, words thick with good-natured sarcasm, poking fun at himself as much as his husband and guest. "You already know my name, but here it is again; I'm Eldan. Born and raised in Surda, a small town called Lithgow. You ever heard of it?"

Murtagh shook his head, only slightly interested in the history of the two sitting with him and more curious as to why they had decided to befriend him. Eldan shrugged.

"I didn't expect you to. Most people in Surda barely know it exists, let alone Alagaesia natives. Talc here was born in Carvahall-"

If Murtagh hadn't been paying the strictest attention before, now he was.

"Carvahall?" he echoed, interrupting Eldan. Talc nodded.

"I knew Eragon when he was a little boy. I never cared much for his uncle or cousin, though, and I left Carvahall years ago." Talc's voice was quiet, hinting that there might be more to his story of leaving but also begging the topic to be left alone.

Murtagh let it lie.

"How did you two meet?" he asked, now a bit curious. Eldan's grin grew wider.

"After he left home, he traveled all the way to Surda so he didn't have to hide who he was and who he loved. He came to Lithgow a few years back and stayed in the room for let my father keeps for travelers. Talc helped out on our farm for a while, and then he just stayed."

Eldan's hand had crept towards Talc's hand, and now the pair sat there, fingers discreetly entwined.

"We heard just a short time ago that the Varden needed men to fight. We decided to join up, fight the good fight. I must say, though, I wasn't exactly prepared for all the hostility the men from Alagaesia have for people like my husband and me." Eldan continued. His tone had been light, but now he seemed to grow serious. He met Murtagh's gaze.

"We just figured that since you're... you know, like us... if you ever wanted to talk to someone, we're here. It can't be easy with no one to talk to." Eldan offered carefully. He put his hand out to shake. "Friends?"

Murtagh studied him for a long moment, unexpectedly touched by the offer.

He shook the offered hand.

"Sure. Friends." Murtagh glanced towards Talc, who just nodded in acknowledgment, a smile on his face.

Murtagh smiled back.

"Anything you want to tell us about yourself, Murtagh? Rumors have probably vastly distorted the truth." Talc asked.

It was odd to speak to people that would prefer the truth from him than rumor. Odd to have someone ask so simple a question, yet refreshing.

"Well, I was born in Uru'baen..."

BREAK

The three of them spoke for the remainder of the lunch break, conversation ranging from interesting tidbits, such as favorite colors (Eldan's was periwinkle) to slightly more revolutionary facts.

As it turned out, Talc had been responsible for stepping in to help Eragon when the blue Rider had been taken by surprise by the gang of convicts. Murtagh had made a mental note to tell Nasuada so Talc could be properly thanked.

They had separated as the rest of the line had begun packing up and getting ready to move, Eldan and Talc promising to come and find him tomorrow so he could join them for lunch again.

Lunch had been... interesting, to say the least. Murtagh could not remember the last time he had actually enjoyed a conversation over a meal, or had so much to think about afterwards.

Watching Eldan and Talc together made him long for that closeness with Eragon. As badly as the other Rider had wronged him, it was hard to hold onto his anger, especially considering the battle coming up.

The battle was now less than a week off; in the face of such impossible odds, it was hard for his mind to convince his heart that Eragon's betrayal was unforgivable. It may have been difficult to forgive, yes, but though Eragon had hurt Murtagh badly, the Red Rider still loved him.

It was maddening, sometimes.

He sighed, reaching the dragons as the two beasts stood in preparation for marching.

With a short nod to the two dragons, they began marching again.

BREAK

It was fully dark before the Varden stopped to camp for the night. Tents were pitched and most of the men either grabbed a blanket out of the packs they carried or walked to one of the supply wagons for a blanket. The night was a bit chilly, though Murtagh had slept in worse, and blankets were especially necessary for those who slept out in the open. There were not enough tents for everyone, and anyone who did have a tent shared with at least one other person.

Small cookfires were lit; a few of the animals were slaughtered to provide meat for the weary marchers. Barrels of water were set out for the men to drink. Murtagh quickly collected his allotment of food - distributed in the same fashion as lunch - and headed back towards Thorn.

Overall, the mood in the camp was subdued. As he walked, he could hear old veterans of war trade stories of battle and saw most of the raw recruits listen intently. Some of the new recruits looked horrified by what they heard while others grimly polished their weapons.

One of the most common activities in camp was the sharpening of weapons. Swords, spears, arrows, everything was being made ready.

It was an eerie contrast to that afternoon. While the threat of battle had loomed just as ominously earlier in the day, it seemed all the more sinister in the dark. One of the days of marching had fully passed, leaving just a handful of days left until the battle.

The Red Rider passed many tents and fires before finally reaching his dragon. Thorn and Saphira had gone hunting as camp had been made; the two were currently tearing into their raw meat with gusto, blood and viscera on their talons and snouts. Unbothered by the eating habits of the dragons, Murtagh walked around to Thorn's side and leaned against the scaly hide, sliding down to sit. He too ate his meal, a small helping of meat, a portion of bread, and cheese with a mug of water. Murtagh ate quickly, thoughts more on the upcoming battle and Eragon than on the taste of the food.

He and Eragon had not practiced fighting together while on dragonback. Their inexperience could cost them their lives, as well as the lives of everyone in the Varden. Galbatorix was old and had experience; it wouldn't be hard for him to maneuver so that Murtagh and Eragon would be in each other's way. For that reason, Nasuada had decided that it would be Eragon's task to fight and defeat Galbatorix while Murtagh concentrated on helping the Varden's ground force. The Red Rider was to fly on Thorn's back and help take out enemy magicians and attack Galbatorix's army from the air. Should Eragon become too injured to fight, Murtagh was to take over fighting Galbatorix while Eragon saw a healer or medic to get patched up enough to rejoin the battle.

Murtagh finished off the last of the food and water before placing the mug aside. He would return it later.

The Rider let himself fully relax against Thorn's side, muttering a small 'good night' and getting the same in response. The long march had been exhausting, and he allowed himself to drift into a light doze, thoughts still whirling in his mind.

The sound of soft footsteps approaching brought Murtagh back to full consciousness not more than ten minutes later. Thought fully awake and alert, Murtagh kept his eyes closed and breath even in an illusion of sleep.

The footsteps crept closer, then stopped. Abruptly, the person turned and left.

Frowning, Murtagh opened his eyes and glanced towards the quickly fading sound of footsteps. He was just in time to see a figure walk carefully around Thorn's head. The dragon was deeply asleep and noticed nothing.

Curious, Murtagh pushed himself to his feet, cautious not to make a sound. He followed the soft sounds of footsteps, now intermixed with stumbling. Rounding Thorn's head and neck, Murtagh paused. He cautiously peered around the dragon, spotting the figure he had followed curl up next to Saphira.

Murtagh didn't need the small beam of moonlight illuminating dark brown hair to let him know that the figure was Eragon.

Stunned, he just stared for a moment, then carefully moved forward. The Red Rider crept towards his brother, checking for any signs of wakefulness.

There were none.

Murtagh knelt next to the sleeping Eragon, noticing that the Blue Rider looked exhausted, even in sleep.

It was no wonder the younger Rider had fallen asleep instantly.

A cold wind breezed through, ruffling Murtagh's cloak some and causing Eragon to shiver.

Murtagh froze, uncertain whether or not the chill would wake his brother up, but Eragon remained deeply asleep. The Red Rider relaxed.

The weather was likely colder than what Eragon was used to. The Red Rider doubted his brother had a blanket, else it would be in use, and the supply wagons had probably given out all of their blankets.

Murtagh hesitated, then lifted his hands to the fastenings of his cloak. Silently, he undid the metal fastenings and shrugged off the cloak. Murtagh carefully laid it over his brother's sleeping form, making sure not to wake the younger Rider.

Murtagh had slept in colder temperatures, after all. He would be fine.

Eragon shifted under the makeshift blanket, curling into the warmth of the cloak.

With a smile, Murtagh rose and went back to his spot at Thorn's side. Tomorrow would bring more marching, and he had to be rested and ready for it when it came.

TBC…

A/N: Ah, I know it was short. They should start getting longer after this, though… I think…

Sorry for the wait!


	33. Marching

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

Sorry for the long wait, but I finally got off my lazy behind to write another chapter. (Pie-chan, you know who you are, please don't kill me for not updating earlier!)

IMPORTANT NOTE! This chapter has not yet been beta'd, but since you all have had to wait so long I wanted to get this up as soon as I finished writing it. Please let me know if you noticed any errors in this chapter and I will try to fix them!

In Dreams, Chapter XIII

_The world was bathed in shades of darkness. He was the sun, the only visible source of light was that which came from his body._

_He traveled the now familiar path above the ground, rivers and forests giving way to mountains, all flashing beneath his feet._

_Suddenly, as the mountains swelled to an impossible size, he dove towards the barely visible landscape below. Faster, faster, faster..._

_The hole in the rock below him was his target; he sped right through, then slowed to touch the ground lightly._

_The huge cavern was the same, a glowing stone in the very center of the stone chamber._

_Power radiated from the stone. He approached, his hand out to touch._

_The light from the stone seemed to resonate with his own light, intensifying and illuminating the entire cavern._

_And the dragon._

_Its silver scales gleamed brightly, reflecting the light._

_It lowered its head in a bow; he could feel its mind open, about to speak-_

Eragon woke with a start, sitting up and looking around for the silver dragon. All he could feel was Saphira's comforting warmth behind him and he could see the vague red shape of Thorn ahead of him. The sun's first, weak rays were just beginning to show behind Thorn; hard as the Rider tried, he couldn't see the silver dragon anywhere.

The dream faded and reality began to set in, reasserting itself.

Eragon leaned back against Saphira's side, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

Ever since he had first dreamt about the silver dragon and the chamber in the mountains, the dream had repeated itself every night without fail. Every morning he would wake up and think he was in that hidden chamber and look around expecting to see the dragon, still anticipating the moment it would speak.

It never had, or at least, not yet. The dream did seem to become clearer and more detailed as time went on, but the dragon had yet to speak in any of them. Eragon could sense that what it would say was important, and he became more and more frustrated as he awoke every morning still waiting.

Besides being frustrating, the dreams made him uncomfortable. Eragon could only remember one other dream that had repeated itself in his mind so vividly and so faithfully; his dreams of Arya, back before he had rescued her from Gil'ead. Back when he had been traveling with Brom.

Eragon swallowed thickly. His very first mentor, the man who had started him on this path, had been dead over a year. The memories were still painful, especially since it had been Eragon's own foolishness that had led the old man to his death. The blue Rider had accepted that Brom was dead and not coming back, but remembering was still painful and made him miss Brom more.

Eragon forcefully shook off thoughts of his first teacher and put a hand down to shove off the ground and stand.

The soft feel of cloth under his hand, rather than hard-packed dirt and grass, made him pause. He looked down, finally noticing the blanket draped over him; a good deal of the dark material was pooled in his lap, having fallen off of him when he sat up so quickly.

Eragon ran his fingers carefully over the material, staring at it blankly before slowly lifting it.

It was not, as he had first assumed, a blanket. It was a cloak, a cloak he recognized. Eragon stared at the cloak for several moments, uncomprehending. He understood what he saw, but he didn't believe it.

The cloak was definitely Murtagh's- no one else in the Varden wore black and few people actually owned a cloak.

It was almost impossible to believe that Murtagh would lay his cloak over Eragon, especially after what Eragon had done to him.

Guilt stabbed briefly through the confusion at the memory, but quickly faded.

Perhaps this was forgiveness...?

Gripping the cloak tightly, Eragon shoved himself to his feet. He could hear the sounds of the camp coming alive but pushed the observation to the back of his mind. Far more important than the camp being awake and the impending march was that Murtagh might have moved passed Eragon's betrayal. It was almost too much to hope for-

The thought stopped Eragon in his tracks as he was rounding Thorn's still-sleeping head.

What if he was wrong? He couldn't say for certain that no one else in the Varden owned a black cloak and just because he had the cloak now didn't mean that it was Murtagh who had covered him during the night. Even if it was, it didn't mean that Murtagh had forgiven him yet.

He hadn't quite forgiven himself yet.

Slowly, Eragon walked the rest of the way around the sleeping dragon's head, carefully peering ahead to see whether or not Murtagh was still asleep.

Murtagh was sleeping sitting up, his arms crossed around bent legs and head resting upon his knees. The older of the two brothers was breathing deep and even, resting against Thorn for the warmth.

His cloak was missing; judging from how Murtagh was sleeping and how cool it had been last night, Eragon doubted that the cloak was simply stashed away somewhere. The red Rider would likely have used his cloak as a blanket, unless someone else had been using it as such.

It had been Murtagh's cloak that had covered Eragon; it was Murtagh's cloak he still held.

Eragon glanced between the cloak and the other Rider, then took a few hesitant steps forward.

He was just feet from Murtagh now and having second thoughts about talking to the red Rider. What if the cloak wasn't representative of Murtagh's forgiveness and wasn't a sign the other wanted to mend the broken bridge between them?

Should he just leave it? Should he drape it over Murtagh, like it had been draped over him?

Would Murtagh see the silent return of the cloak a rejection of the implied offer to patch things up?

Uncertain, Eragon just stood there, staring at the sleeping Rider.

The sounds of the camp coming awake for breakfast grew louder.

Eragon started forward again with a half-formed plan to just fold the cloak and place it next to his brother, then seek him out later to explain, then stopped as Murtagh shifted.

The sound of the pale man's breathing changed, shifting from deep and even to slightly more irregular; he was waking up.

Still unsure of what to do, Eragon froze. Hazel eyes slowly blinked open, their owner only half-awake and clearly not yet comprehending the real world.

The blue Rider's mind blanked. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, then realized he had no words.

What if the cloak didn't mean what he had assumed it meant?

Even if it did, all of Eragon's determination and courage - the determination to face his brother and apologize, the courage to ask for another chance - seemed to have fled with his words. He couldn't face Murtagh just yet, not now!

Eragon turned and fled the slowly awakening red Rider, cloak still gripped firmly in his hand.

BREAK

It had taken almost a week of marching, but finally they had made it.

The quickest route to Aberon, the capital of Surda and the most likely target for Galbatorix, was through a pass in the cliffs next to Lake Tudosten. The pass had been carved out over years of water running from the lake to the sea, though the river had dried to a mere trickle compared to its old magnificence.

Varden intelligence had reported that Galbatorix would go after Aberon right away, since taking the capital meant control of the entire country.

Nasuada had known that the Varden, even with numbers swelled by the men of Surda, couldn't hope to win in a battle on an open plain. The only way to win was to use their superior knowledge of the land.

Nasuada had outlined her plan just a few days ago, once the varden's Urgal allies and the dwarves had joined the Varden on their march.

She had drawn a rough sketch of the Tudosten Pass in the dirt, drawing vague outlines of the lake itself and the thick forests that grew around it.

The end of the pass, the part closest to Aberon, would be sealed off by rocks. The rocks would be piled as high as the Varden's forces could get them in one day; with the help of the dwarves, known for stonework, and the Urgals, known for strength, the pile should grow quite high.

Mages and archers would be placed on top of the cliffs and would drop rocks or shoot down on the trapped enemies. None of the foot soldiers would be placed at the end of the pass; it would be suicide. The foot soldiers would have nowhere to escape to and would be just as likely to get hit by the rocks or arrows as their foes.

The forest was thick enough to provide decent cover for the magic-users and archers, so hopefully they would not be spotted by Galbatorix and burned.

The footsoldiers- the Varden, the dwarves, the few groups of elves that had been with them when the news had come, and the regular Surdan army- would be hiding in the thick forest around the mouth of the Pass. They would be in the most danger, as they would have to keep themselves physically and magically hidden as Galbatorix's forces passed by them. The footsoldiers would have to wait until the majority of Galbatorix's army had entered the pass (Nasuada's advisors had speculated, based on the information from their spy, that most of the men would be in the pass before the ones at front realized the way was blocked) and then attack.

Spies had already confirmed Galbatorix's route. Even without their confirmation, however, the Tudosten Pass was one of the safest ways to get from Alagaesia to Surda and the only way that lay on the straight line from Uru'baen to Aberon.

Murtagh's job would be to fly into the Pass and assist the magicians while Thorn breathed fire on the enemies. The width of the Pass should be just enough to fit Thorn's wingspan.

Occasionally during the meeting, Eragon had felt a pair of familiar eyes on him, but every time he looked, Murtagh had been paying attention to the battle strategy Nasuada was outlining.

Eragon's duty during the battle was the most important; tomorrow, his enemy would be the king himself.

Tomorrow, Eragon would face the enemy he had never yet seen, but already fought by proxy. His first fight against Galbatorix's power had been with the king's right-hand man; Durza. Eventually he had defeated the Shade, but it had been at great cost.

The second time he had fought Galbatorix's power was when he had to fight Murtagh. The time had been much closer to his heart, not that he would have admitted it then.

Even now, he still had some deeply ingrained hesitations about admitting how important Murtagh was to him.

Eragon sighed.

It was late; he had been at work all day, helping to move stones in place and to dig out more stones for the mages to throw down on their enemies tomorrow. With enough force behind the rocks, even tiny pebbles could crack a man's skull.

The wall of rocks was respectable now; while it was probably climbable, few men would get the chance to try, and anyone who made it onto the wall could be picked off with a quick arrow. Most of the archers had been hard at work making arrows for themselves, picking up fallen branches and cutting a few off of the larger trees in an attempt to be sure that they wouldn't run out.

It had been a long day for everyone.

Eragon currently sat under a tree, his pack in front of him. Until now it had been carried in one of the wagons, only rummaged through when he had needed something from it, but tonight he would go over all of his battle gear.

He had noticed several groups of warriors huddled around campfires doing the same. Some were sharpening their weapons, making the edge so fine the sword or spear could slice a hair dropped on it. Others were checking to make sure their weapon had no nick in the blade- even a small imperfection could mean the weapon would break on you when you needed it most.

Most, Eragon knew, had checked their weapons every night when the Varden made camp. Most were simply checking to comfort themselves, convince themselves that they were as ready as they could be.

At least Eragon was checking to convince himself of his readiness. This would be the toughest battle he had ever faced by far.

One item would be absolutely essential in this fight; an item given to him by his former teacher, Oromis.

He dragged his pack closer to himself and untied the knots holding it closed. He reached in and felt around for a moment before his fingers felt the distinctive leather weave of the item he sought.

He drew it out. At first glance, it appeared to be a simple belt made of leather, but appearances were often deceiving. He had thought the belt a normal one at first as well, but then Oromis had shown him the belt's secret.

The belt had once belonged to Beloth the Wise, an ancient Rider. Set into the belt were twelve gems; diamonds, to be precise. The stones were able to hold magic that Eragon would be able to draw upon during battle.

He had been secretly storing magic in the stones over the course of the march. Each diamond was now filled with magic, he was certain, but he quickly did a magical scan on each gem to be sure.

This belt was his secret weapon. This belt would hopefully help him defeat Galbatorix, since the man had hundreds of years with which to grow.

Still, if rumors of Galbatorix's power proved true, his growth was unnatural. The blue Rider had been warned by Nasuada to try and finish Galbatorix off quickly, since the king had so much power and would win if the battle was allowed to draw on. Eragon would exhaust his magic and stamina long before the king tired, and then Galbatorix would be able to crush him easily.

Still, Galbatorix didn't know about the belt, or how much magic Eragon had stored inside of it. Eragon had avoided using it against Murtagh for that reason alone- to keep it a secret from his true enemy. Besides, if he had needed such a boost for fighting Murtagh he would have truly been out of his depth when facing the king.

He ran his fingers over the perfect gems before covering them back up with the strip of leather designed to cover up their shine.

The light armor he had worn in all previous battles was being tended to by the dwarves; he didn't need to worry about it. The dwarves would make certain that Eragon's armor was in top condition, since he would have the most important task of all.

His bow had been strapped to the outside of the pack, as it had been too large to fit inside. Gently, Eragon unhooked the bow from the ties and checked over the wood.

The bow had been a gift from the queen of the elves, and had served him well. It didn't surprise him to find no mistakes and no potential problems in the wood. Even after using it for so long, the bow was still like new.

He checked over the string next, running his fingers over it to make certain that it wasn't fraying and wouldn't snap. Like any good archer, he left his bow unstrung when not in use. Leaving a bow strung constantly was a good way to ruin it, and Eragon had been especially careful with the gift.

The arrows Queen Islanzadi had given him with the bow, unfortunately, had all been used.

It wasn't likely that he would need the bow- any long range combat he engaged in would be done with magic- but he still wanted to check it over.

If it hadn't been a gift he would have considered turning it over to the Varden to give to one of the archers without a bow. The bows in stock had gone to the best archers first, and any archer without a bow would be part of the melee group. It would be insulting to Islanzadi, however, if Eragon tossed the bow away so casually and allowed it to be distributed with the rest of the bows. Most had been created by the woodworkers in Surda, and while the quality was fine enough the bows produced were nothing compared to the one gifted to Eragon by the elves.

Such thoughtlessness with such a gift would be insulting to anyone.

The last item he needed to check over had also been a gift, of a sort.

Eragon glanced over at his sword, which he had laid next to his pack. The sword was always belted around his waist; it was stupid not to be armed while marching off to war. While no battle had been expected until tomorrow, it was foolish to go into things unprepared.

Eragon grabbed the sword and slowly drew it out, one hand gripping the sheath while the other gripped the hilt of the sword. The weapon looked almost exactly like Za'roc, but where Za'roc was red, this sword was blue. Where Za'roc had a ruby, this sword had a sapphire.

This sword, Ceszori, had not been made for Eragon, just as Za'roc had not been made for Murtagh. Not knowing the name of the blade, Eragon had named it 'Hope', since the blade symbolized the hope of the people that Galbatorix would be overthrown. The Varden existed solely for that purpose, each member of the Varden carrying the weight of others' hopes and dreams. It made the name a fitting one for his weapon.

Originally, the sword had belonged to Eragon's first teacher. The sword had been thought lost, but something a certain werecat had said had led Eragon directly to it.

'"When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree."'

Just before leaving the elves, Eragon had discovered a small hollow in the ground near the ancient tree. He had only been able to fit his head and shoulders into the hole, but that had been enough to find the weapon, nestled between two of the larger roots of the tree.

It had been incredibly difficult to spot. Someone, most likely Brom himself, had wrapped the gorgeous blade in dark cloth. It had been almost as difficult as seeing a black-shelled beetle on a new moon night, but something had caused Eragon to reach out blindly and he had felt the cloth covering the blue metal.

The Rider would like to have thought it was Brom's spirit who had guided his hand, but it could just as easily have been dumb luck.

Regardless of how he had found the blade, it was now his. He would have gone back to the crystal grave where Brom was buried and placed the sword with the old man, but Brom no longer needed it and Eragon knew that such a fine blade was necessary to win this war. This blade would never chip, never dull, never break.

After this battle, he would return the blade to its previous owner. Even though it temporarily belonged to Eragon, it had been Brom's before that and belonged with him.

Besides, it would be good to visit his first mentor's grave. The Rider hadn't had the chance to pay his respects since he had covered the man's body with sandstone, transmuted to crystal by Saphira's power.

There were other things he had to be certain of doing after the battle as well.

With one last look at the blade, Eragon sheathed it and placed it next to the bow. He reached into his pack and drew out a length of dark material.

A cloak. It was the same cloak Murtagh had covered Eragon with several nights before.

The blue Rider hadn't returned it yet, and Murtagh had not come looking for it. Instead of getting a blanket from the wagons, Eragon had been using the cloak as his blanket the entire trip.

Even though the cloak was not as thick as the blankets, it warmed him more than the scratchy material of the stockpiled blankets could.

The cloak represented something he couldn't bring himself to ask for, not quite yet. It meant forgiveness, potential happiness, a second chance. He hadn't yet asked his brother if that was the case, but for now pretending was enough.

He would return the cloak after the battle, or just before it, but he would not keep the cloak in his possession for much longer.

In either case, he would talk with Murtagh once the battle was over.

They hadn't truly talked since Eragon had asked Murtagh to kiss him, then turned around and told Roran it didn't count, that he wasn't a freak. He hadn't spoken with his brother since he had betrayed him and it was time that he came clean.

If he was lucky, Murtagh would forgive him. If he wasn't, Murtagh would refuse to speak with him, but the fact that Murtagh had covered Eragon with the cloak seemed to indicate at least some forgiveness.

The blue Rider shoved such thoughts out of his mind, dropping the cloak into his lap. He had contemplated the meaning of the cloak many times while marching, but all he ended up doing was chasing answers in circles. He hadn't figured anything out, and wouldn't until he talked to Murtagh.

That conversation would probably be unpleasant, but it was likely to be more enjoyable than the talk he would need to have with Roran.

His cousin had ignored him completely since the farmer had stumbled across Murtagh and Eragon kissing. Roran had been more like a brother than a cousin, so the cold shoulder had hurt.

The rumors getting out about himself and Murtagh hurt more. Eragon had never thought Roran would speak of what had happened, but once he had thought about it, the only way everyone in the Varden could have known about the kiss was through Roran. If Murtagh had said anything, few would have believed him. Roran, in comparison, was much more respected and well-known that Murtagh.

Even if Roran would have nothing to do with him afterwards, Eragon owed it to himself, to Roran, and to Murtagh to come clean. He would have to admit to Roran the full truth that he himself was just coming to accept.

It would just be confirming what the leader of New Carvahall already knew, but it was an important confirmation.

He was so lost in thought and unhappy anticipation of that particular conversation he didn't notice as quiet footsteps approach.

"Sir Eragon?"

Eragon blinked, turning towards the voice.

Krin stood several feet away, shifting on his feet.

"What is it Krin?" Eragon asked, then gestured to the ground in front of him. "Please sit down."

The teenager did, after a moment of hesitation. Even after he sat down, his hands still fidgeted uncertainly. His knees were drawn up to his chest.

Eragon frowned in concern. Such nervous habits weren't common for the teenager he had come to know and respect.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently. Krin took a deep breath, then spoke.

"I have to fight with the melee group tomorrow." he said.

The reason for Krin's nerves was instantly clear.

Krin had always been an archer. Before her death, his mother had insisted that Krin be trained as an archer and not a footsoldier, since archers generally had fewer casualties than footsoldiers. True to her wishes, Krin's training had focused more on archery and less on groundfighting. He was a decent shot, but not one of the best in the Varden. Even so, he had always been assigned to an archery unit prior to this.

"They don't have a bow for me, since I'm not good enough." Krin continued, voice toneless even though his movements were getting more and more agitated. "I haven't practiced much with a spear, but it's all they could spare. My unit is one of the ones at the front."

Eragon had no clue what to say. He would have liked to get Krin assigned to an archery group, since the boy had been a friend to him, but this was war. He couldn't ask one of the better archers to switch to groundfighting simply to protect someone.

Krin, as if reading his thoughts, shook his head quickly.

"I don't want you to ask Lady Nasuada to reassign me." he said quietly. "It's just... ever since my parents died you've been like a brother to me. I just wanted to tell you that, in case-"

Krin cut himself off. It didn't need to be said.

"I mean, almost everyone else has family." Krin mumbled, now looking down at the ground. "Everyone else has somewhere to be tonight, even if it's sitting by themselves and writing letters for someone to take back if... if they don't make it."

Krin hesitated again.

"I can go if you'd rather be by yourself." Krin sounded so unsure of himself; Eragon realized he had been quiet for too long.

"No. It's okay. I understand- everyone else has family, you just want to be with someone you consider family." Eragon smiled at the teenager, who slowly smiled back.

The fear was still in the teen's green eyes, though. Krin, usually fairly confident in his competence in matters of battle, had lost his confidence because he had been assigned to something he was sure he would fail at.

Just then, Eragon had an idea.

It would have been disrespectful and insulting to the gift Islanzadi had given him to let the bow go to just anyone, but Krin had said it himself; they were like brothers.

Krin had been there for Eragon after the Rider was attacked for kissing Murtagh, just as Eragon had been there for Krin after the death of his parents.

Eragon picked the bow up from the ground, running his fingers over the beautiful craftsmanship one last time before extending the bow to Krin.

The teenager stared at it, puzzled.

"It's for you. You can ask for reassignment to an archery unit if you have your own bow." When Krin still made no move to take it, Eragon shook it a bit.

Krin accepted the bow, fingers automatically checking for defects, expression one of awe.

"I can't accept this." he finally said. Eragon frowned.

"Don't you like it?"

"This bow is too fine for me. It must have been really expensive; it's beautiful." It was easy to hear the admiration in Krin's voice. "This must have been made by a master craftsman. I'd feel bad about taking something like this from you."

The teen offered back the bow, but Eragon gently pushed his hand back.

"We're brothers, aren't we?" he asked. Krin nodded a bit impatiently, still trying to give the bow back.

"I didn't say that to get things like this."

"I know, but I want to give it to you." Eragon said. The teenager opened his mouth to object again, but Eragon put up the other hand in a request for silence.

Krin obliged.

"I'm fighting against Galbatorix tomorrow. I won't be using the bow anyway, so I'd be happy if someone made use out of it."

"But-"

"I want you to have it." Eragon pushed Krin's hand and the bow back towards Krin. Reluctantly, Krin allowed the move.

"I'll take good care of it. I promise." the teen said. Eragon nodded.

"I know you will."

The Rider glanced around, noting that the few campfires some of the Varden members had lit were being put out.

"It's probably time for bed. You can request a transfer in the morning. I'm sure there won't be any problems since you now have a bow. They've already prepared hundreds of loaded quivers for the archers, so you won't have any problems with that."

Krin nodded, still seemingly in awe over the great gift he had just been given.

"Thank you." Krin said, standing up. His voice was choked with emotion, predominately relief that he wouldn't have to fight with the footsoldiers and gratitude for the present his 'brother' had bestowed upon him. "Thank you so much."

"It's no problem. Make sure you rest well for tomorrow." Eragon told him. Krin nodded.

"I will. Good night."

"Good night."

Krin bowed low, formally, then turned and left.

Eragon watched him go, smiling slightly.

While the bow had been wonderful and he was almost sorry to see it go, it made him happy to help someone else out. Considering how Krin had helped him, the bow barely made them even. Yes, he would miss the bow, but it couldn't have gone to a better person.

It was time to take his own advice and sleep. First he placed the belt of Beloth the Wise back into his pack and put Brom's- now his- sword next to the pack. He moved away from the tree he had been leaning against and laid his head on the pack. While lumpy, it was better than the ground. He pulled Murtagh's cloak over himself and shut his eyes.

(Goodnight, Saphira.) he called quietly. He felt almost guilty for avoiding her for most of the march, but it couldn't be helped as Murtagh as always with Thorn. He knew she understood, though, and held no grudge for it, even if she did occasionally nag him about speaking to Murtagh.

(Goodnight, Eragon. Pleasant dreams.) she replied.

TBC

A/N: I know it has been forever since I wrote- sorry! I know this chapter was mostly information and not much action, but the battle starts next chapter and some things needed to be said. While probably not the most exciting chapter, it was longer than some of my recent chapters and was important.

Review Replies for those without an account:

Sammii : I'm glad you like the story; I'm honored it's one of you favorites! I do my best to make what I write enjoyable. I'm also trying to be realistic with this story. While 'I love you now lets get together and have no problems whatsoever!' stories are fun sometimes, sometimes it's good to have a story with more realism than that. (I usually write the 'no problems!'-type story, but I'm trying to be accurate with this one.) Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter!

Phoenix: I'm glad you like this story enough to keep following me month after month! (I probably would have given up, seeing as I update only once every month or two). I'm glad you like In Dreams so much! I'm honestly honored. I commend your determination, checking every day. (I'm on all the time too!) I'll try to keep this story living up to your expectations and hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	34. Spell

**BLANKET WARNINGS**: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

On with the story!

Italics: _dreams or imaginings or memories_

A/N: This chapter is perhaps the longest one so far. Hopefully you will all enjoy- it's summer, so I have more time to write and hence why I have this crazy-long chapter ready just about 2 weeks after my last update.

Oh, more GOOD NEWS! Well, good news for me personally. I got a 34 on my ACT! I was rather proud of myself, and me being proud of myself makes me want to write, so I guess that's good news for you all as well.

In Dreams XIII, Part B

Eragon walked slowly towards Saphira, Ceszori resting on his hip.

He had once again woken up searching for a dragon who wasn't there, but he had quickly put all thoughts of the magnificent silver creature out of his mind.

Today was not a day for distractions.

The belt of Beloth the Wise was cinched around the light body armor the dwarves had made specifically for Eragon so long ago. Metal had been molded to fit his torso and had been altered over the years so that it would always fit perfectly. Metal shin guards were strapped firmly to his legs and leather-and-metal gauntlets protected his arms from elbow to finger. A simple metal helmet rested on his head, the front cut so that there would be as few restrictions on visibility as possible. It left his face mostly exposed, but being hit in the face was the least of his worries. It was far more important to be able to see his opponent at all times; Eragon didn't want to consider what would happen if Galbatorix managed to sneak up on him.

The simple helmet had been chosen in favor of the ornamental helm gifted to him by the late dwarf king, King Hrothgar. While pretty, the helm was heavy and Eragon hadn't trained enough with it yet.

After the Battle of the Burning Plains, Eragon had been sure to practice and train with the light armor. He now barely noticed it, though fighting without the bit of extra weight and the slight restriction on his movements was always preferable. In this fight he would need all the extra protection he could get.

Galbatorix would be out for blood.

Eragon had packed everything he wouldn't take with him into battle and put his things in one of the wagons. Nasuada had ordered the wagons hidden, to be retrieved later.

That assumed, of course, that the Varden would still exist after the battle and not be completely wiped out.

The mood in the camp was subdued. Most men were giving their weapons one final check-over or talking quietly to friends and comrades. Some were praying to their god, begging for protection or victory for the Varden.

Some of the men praying were kneeling together in small circles, voices creating a mild buzz as they chanted prayers simultaneously. Other groups were completely silent. The blue Rider had never before realized how many different religions were practiced inside the Varden; he saw several different groups practicing some form of religion, but all seemed to be worshipping a different idol or worshipping in a different way.

To someone without a religion, it seemed odd that so many men would place their trust on something that probably didn't exist. Still, it seemed to bolster their strength and courage; Eragon almost envied them their faith.

As he continued walking, he saw some of the other groups in the Varden. The few elves that were permanent members of the Varden were sitting and talking quietly among themselves. Like Eragon, they had no god to pray to.

The dwarves were arranged similarly to the humans. Some prayed to the dwarf god of war, Guntera, murmuring the war chants that acted as prayers to honor their god. Others worked with metal or sat in circles with close friends and comrades.

The Urgals, though there were fewer Urgals than either humans or dwarves, were arranged in circles. Nine Urgals sat cross-legged in each circle, arms folded, while one Urgal stood in the center. The Urgal in the center turned often, always moving clockwise, and spoke the native tongue of the Urgals.

Eragon paused to watch for a moment.

All the Urgals seemed to be listening intently to the Urgal who was centered in their circle. Since Eragon knew little of the Urgal language, the center Urgal could have been a commander of some sort, giving his men a pep talk before the battle, but something inside of him told him it was a religious practice.

Not wanting to intrude, Eragon began walking again, heading for Saphira.

By now he was certain that Saphira would be armored up. If he was lucky, Murtagh and Thorn would have already left for their battle position. It was nearly time to move out, after all.

He couldn't face Murtagh today. He had set his brother's cloak in with his other belongings, foolishly hoping that not having the cloak with him would be some sort of charm against seeing the red Rider that day.

At least he and Murtagh had not been stationed together for the wait. As their battle strategy was basically an ambush, lying in wait was a necessity. Because of the sheer size of their target, they would be waiting for quite a while, until it was the perfect moment to strike.

Murtagh and Thorn were to be stationed at the end of the pass, Surda side. Murtagh was to cast an illusion over himself and Thorn once in place. When enough of Galbatorix's army was inside the pass, or when the front lines were close enough to threaten Thorn, Murtagh was to break the illusion and strike. That first strike would be the signal for the battle to begin in earnest.

Murtagh never would have gotten such an important mission had he not been the only other Rider in the Varden. Fighting Galbatorix was much more vital and so went to Eragon, the Rider who had been with the Varden the longest.

Murtagh had needed to swear many oaths in the Ancient Language before being allowed the key task of signaling the beginning of the fight.

He tore himself from his thoughts before they became a distraction. He blinked and looked around, having covered more ground than expected while spaced out.

Saphira stood much closer than he had expected her to be, and, as predicted, already dressed in her armor. The armor was nothing heavy and just for a little bit of extra protection. While her hide was thick and scales tough, a little extra protection would not be amiss during this battle.

As Eragon drew closer to Saphira, he could hear voices. A flash of red just beyond the blue dragon's bulk caught his eye.

Thorn was still here, which meant Murtagh was as well.

Momentarily panicking, Eragon took a deep breath to calm himself. Murtagh shouldn't spot him as long as he stayed on this side of Saphira. Even if he did, Eragon was sure that his brother wouldn't force a confrontation today.

(Hello, Eragon.)

Eragon jerked his head towards the source of the 'sound', startled, then realized the noise had come from inside his head.

(Hello, Saphira.) he replied, seeing that she had turned her neck to look at him. (Ready to go?)

The dragons had been informed of their orders at the same time as their Riders and shown their positions the previous day.

(Already?) Saphira's voice sounded just a bit disappointed, and the dragon quickly glanced towards Thorn, then down towards something smaller than the red dragon. (I suppose it is time.)

She turned her gaze back to Eragon.

(Be sure that you speak with your brother after this. I have missed you, you know.) she lightly rebuked him. Eragon forced a smile.

(I know. I promise I'll talk to him later, Saphira.) His expression softened and became more genuine. (I've missed you too, it's just...)

(I know.)

Saphira crouched down so Eragon could pull himself into the saddle on her back. He quickly got himself settled, moving to pull the straps tight around his legs so that Saphira could take off.

Murtagh had probably already noticed that Eragon was there, but would hopefully not try to talk to the blue Rider. Still, Eragon didn't want to try his luck and wanted to be out of the area as quickly as possible.

He pulled the fastenings around one leg tight. As he began to tie the knot around his thigh, he could feel someone come up on his other side and begin tightening the straps around his other leg.

His hands paused for a split second, then resumed tying the knot, shaking slightly.

The dragon saddles were complicated things, but the person helping him secure himself to his mount seemed familiar with the looping system.

He could no longer busy himself with the knot and let the loose ends of the leather straps fall from his fingers. He didn't turn, even as the hands helping him stopped and then stilled.

"Eragon?"

The blue Rider swallowed hard, still not turning around. Murtagh's voice was carefully blank.

"Yes?" he replied after a moment, once it seemed that Murtagh wouldn't continue without some sort of prompting.

"I know Lady Nasuada already told you this, but be careful." Murtagh's voice still carried no inflection. The words made it seem as though Murtagh still cared, but the tone of voice was all wrong. The red Rider's tone seemed to imply just the opposite.

With a sinking heart, Eragon realized that he must have read too much into the cloak. It had been a bit too much to hope for Murtagh's forgiveness.

"I will be." Eragon tried to make his voice as emotionless as the other Rider's, but couldn't quite manage. "You too."

Murtagh was silent for a moment.

"I mean it." Murtagh's voice was losing that careful blankness, undercurrents of worry running cleanly through it. "Be careful. Dodge his spells if possible, but don't let him hit you with any of it. Kill him quickly, all right?"

The red Rider's voice was unsteady, as though he were actually worried.

Hope beginning to rise again, Eragon finally turned to face his brother. Seated on Saphira, for once he actually had to look down into those hazel eyes, rather than up.

"Murtagh?" he asked, fighting not to become too hopeful.

Murtagh was staring up at him, expression open and unguarded.

Eragon could read so much in that expression. Hope, fear, worry, uncertainty... caring?

"Do you still have the cloak?" Murtagh asked him.

Temporarily struck dumb, Eragon could only nod.

The red Rider half-smiled at him, then stepped away, turning to go to his own dragon.

The blue Rider could only stare, then scrambled to make his voice work again.

"Mur-!"

"So you're Sir Eragon!" A voice interrupted from the other side of Saphira.

Automatically, Eragon turned towards the call, sensing Saphira do the same.

Two men stood by Saphira. Both were fairly tall, though the brown-haired man appeared to be slightly shorter.

The blonde seemed oddly familiar, but it took Eragon a moment to place him. The confusion cleared from his expression, replaced by surprise.

"Aren't you the man who-" He cut himself off, not suite sure how to phrase 'saved me' without making himself sound like some sort of damsel in distress. The blonde man gave a small smile and nodded.

"So you do remember him!" the brunette said excitedly. He glanced over towards the blonde with a slight smirk. "I told you he would."

Not quite sure who the brown-haired man was, and a bit taken aback by the man's upbeat attitude so close to the battle, Eragon coughed slightly to get their attention.

"Do I, uh... know you?" he asked uncertainly, directing his question at the brunette.

The man chuckled a bit.

"I seem to be getting that question a lot lately."

Eragon opened his mouth to ask about the man's statement, but the brunette continued speaking.

"I'm Eldan. This man here is my husband, Talc." the man declared cheerfully, indicating the blonde man standing next to him. "We were just on our way to wish Murtagh good luck in the battle-" Eldan squinted at something behind Eragon, then frowned. "-but it seems that he's already left."

Eragon didn't look behind himself to see if the brown-haired man was right. His mind seemed stuck on the word 'husband'.

He glanced towards Talc. Seeming to understand his question, the blonde man nodded.

"It's not that uncommon in Surda." the blonde replied. "In Alagaesia, especially in smaller towns, it's not so welcomed."

Something about Talc's words sparked a memory buried deep within Eragon's mind.

_Loud, angry, accusing voices._

_"You're not my son! I didn't raise someone like you!"_

_People shouting._

_People looking down, silent._

_Roran, knuckles bruised and eye blackened._

_Roran, a proud smile on his face._

"Did you grow up in Carvahall?" the blue Rider asked, already knowing the answer. Guilt welled up, one more memory that he wanted to forget rising to the surface.

_Eyes red and puffy from crying._

_Blood drying from a broken nose._

_Eyes blackened, arms bruised._

That night Eragon had abandoned the wounded figure in the alley. Eragon was ashamed of his actions back then, especially considering that he could have ended up just like Talc had been if the blonde man hadn't stepped in when Eragon was being beaten.

"I did." Talc replied, though his voice held no malice. The man seemed to sense where Eragon's thoughts were going, extraordinarily perceptive. "I don't regret what happened that day, Eragon. Because of it I met Eldan."

One of Talc's hands gently slipped into one of Eldan's.

"I don't blame you. None of that was your fault."

Somehow, Talc's calm voice made the guilt worse.

"I'm still sorry." Eragon said. "What my cousin did..."

Eragon's voice trailed off.

"We didn't intend to upset you." Eldan said. "I know Talc doesn't hold you responsible for that. I don't hold you responsible for that."

"If you need to hear it: we forgive you." Talc said.

Eragon nodded.

"Thanks. I did need to hear that." Eragon smiled at the blonde. "Thanks for helping me out when those men grabbed me."

"Not a problem."

Eldan was glancing at the sky when the Rider turned his attention to the brown-haired man.

"It seems like it's about time to head out." Eldan said, his focus returning to the conversation. He glanced at Eragon again, a wide smile on his face. "Good luck!"

Eragon found his own smile widening in response.

"Good luck to you as well. Both of you."

The two men turned to leave, evidently planning on joining the crowd already heading towards the pass.

"'Bye, Sir Eragon!" Eldan called over his shoulder. "It was nice meeting you! Oh, and 'bye Lady Saphira! It was nice meeting you too!"

"Goodbye!" Talc called back, just before the two melted into the crowd.

Eragon and Saphira were left staring after them.

(They were interesting.) Saphira commented, sounding almost impressed. (I would like to talk to them next time we see them, I think.)

(All right.) Eragon agreed. The meeting had been odd, but speaking to Talc again and apologizing after all these years warmed Eragon's heart.

It had been good to apologize and even better to hear that Talc didn't blame him.

Even better than that was the look he had seen in Murtagh's eyes before the red Rider had left.

Perhaps a second chance wasn't out of reach after all.

In fact, Eragon was almost looking forward to talking to Murtagh and returning his cloak after the battle. He still dreaded talking to Roran, but even that seemed more bearable if Murtagh was willing to try trusting Eragon one more time.

With a smile on his face, Eragon turned to finish fastening his leg to the saddle. Murtagh could only reach so high, but with the job already started it took mere moments to finish tying the leather firmly around his leg.

That done, he faced forward.

(Let's go, Saphira.)

Line Break

The worst part was, unquestionably, the waiting.

Eragon and Saphira had easily reached their hiding place. The blue Rider and sapphire dragon were stationed atop the cliffs, though set further from the edge than the archers and magicians. To prevent being spotted from above, Eragon had cast an illusion that coaxed any observing eyes to slide past their hiding place. It was quite an effective illusion, so long as the person it was cast upon didn't move much.

Murtagh, Eragon knew, cast a similar spell over himself and Thorn, making certain their enemies wouldn't see them until they were ready.

Though Eragon could hear the distant footfalls of many men marching, it would be a while until the battle truly began. Thorn was to send a mental message to Saphira when he and the red Rider began their attack, but until then Eragon and Saphira were to remain in place.

It allowed Eragon's thoughts to wander. He had tried to meditate and clear his mind, but that had proved impossible.

His fears about speaking to Murtagh had mostly disappeared after talking with the red Rider that morning. One other conversation still loomed in the near future, one he had no clue how to conduct.

He would need to speak with Roran. His cousin had been like a brother, Uncle Garrow more a father than Morzan had ever been. Eragon had heard stories of Morzan's cruelty and was glad he had never met the man.

He hadn't seen Roran at all since the attack. Part of him had hoped that Roran would seek him out and apologize for spreading the story of the kiss- who else could have told? Roran, however, hadn't shown.

Since the attack, Eragon had seen several of the men he recognized from Carvahall, though only in passing. Still, no one else seemed to resent his choice in affections nearly as much as Roran did. Most gave him a friendly nod, as though nothing had changed despite what they knew.

He sighed.

There was also the matter of his godson, little Terrin. He hadn't even seen the child yet and he hoped that Roran wouldn't forbid him from setting foot in New Carvahall. Eragon supposed that he'd never have children of his own, so his cousin's child was the closest he'd have.

That would be another matter to discuss with Roran when the time came. If Roran couldn't accept Eragon as he was, couldn't accept who Eragon had feelings for...

That matter would have to be dealt with when the time came.

(Eragon!) Saphira suddenly called, bringing the Rider to full alertness.

(It's time?) he asked. The nervousness he had been successfully pushing back surged forward at that moment, heart seeming to pump more adrenaline than blood.

(Yes. Are you ready?) she asked him.

Eragon took a deep breath, moving a shaking hand to his sword's hilt.

(Yes. I have to be ready. We'll win this.) he replied, mental voice more confident than he felt. His hand stilled and he took another deep breath, calming himself down.

There was only one opponent. Shruikan, Galbatorix's dragon, was big and old, but Saphira would be more agile. Hopefully that would give them an edge. They could do this.

Feeling more confident now, Eragon gave the order.

(Let's go.)

Saphira roared as she flew into the sky, Thorn's voice joining hers as both dragons moved out of the safety of their respective illusions.

As Eragon rose, he could hear battle cries shouted beneath him, the melee fighters hearing the dragons' roar and instantly moving to attack. The soft 'twang' and 'thwack' of arrows being fired filled the air and spells were spoken, the mages and archers attacking before the enemy knew they were in danger.

The screams of the dying and wounded quickly rose up, those caught by surprise the first casualties of this fight.

Eragon wrenched his thoughts from the death below him to searching the skies for his opponent.

It didn't take long to spot the large black spot in the sky; it seemed that Galbatorix hadn't spotted Saphira or her Rider yet and was gearing up to attack a different foe.

The ruby dragon, bright red scales glaringly obvious against the blue sky. Murtagh seemed to realize he was being targeted, flying well above the narrow pass to allow himself room to try and dodge whatever Galbatorix threw at him.

(Go, Saphira!) Eragon urged, drawing his weapon.

(I am!) she retorted, flapping her wings frantically to close the distance between herself and the enemy. As they drew closer, Eragon couldn't help but be stunned by the sheer size of the King's dragon.

Shruikan was coal-black, easily three times Saphira's size. Three horns, each the color of obsidian, protruded from the back of the dragon's skull. Two ridges ran the length of the dragon's back and tail, running into each other and ending in wicked-looking spikes on the end of the powerful tail. Scales only slightly dulled by age covered a well-muscled body, the talons seemingly as long as Saphira's jaw.

Though he couldn't be certain, Eragon felt sure that each tooth was just as sharp and long as the talons.

"Galbatorix!" he shouted as his dragon put him between the King and the red Rider.

The blue Rider saw his enemy for the first time.

The King, despite his age, seemed no older than Garrow. The King was completely bald, eyes dark and features proud. The King wore black armor to match his dragon's scales, a belt hanging off of his waist. From the way the armor was molded to fit the King, Eragon could tell the other man had muscles just as impressive as those of the dragon he sat astride. As with the dragons, Galbatorix was easily twice Eragon's size.

The King wore no helm or metal helmet, apparently assuming such protection wouldn't be needed.

Galbatorix stared down his nose at the blue Rider, contempt written into his proud features.

"So you're the brat with the female dragon. A poor little farmboy out to save the world." Galbatorix smirked cruelly, words dripping with mockery. "I expected better from the 'Varden's last hope'."

Eragon glared in return, Ceszori firmly in hand.

(Saphira, g-)

Shruikan roared suddenly, lunging at the sapphire dragon. Saphira instinctively rolled, dodging the lunge by a hairsbreadth.

(Eragon, there's something not right about him or his dragon.) Saphira's voice was puzzled and worried. (I can't make any sort of contact with his dragon's mind; it's just a mindless beast, Eragon. And the King... he smells like death and fire, though not dragonfire or anything I've ever smelled before.)

A shadow fell across Eragon.

"It was reckless to try and challenge me, boy." Galbatorix was directly above him, Shruikan's massive shadow blocking out the sun.

(Saphira, down!)

The sapphire dragon dove, pulling up just before the trees. The black dragon was right on her tail, shrieking.

Eragon knew he had to get back up into the sky; being so close to the cliffs was bad for the Varden. It would be almost no effort for the King to have his dragon breathe fire on the Varden's soldiers.

(We need to get back up!)

(I know!) Saphira replied, quickly angling her body so that they shot into the sky on the next pump of her wings.

Shruikan followed, slowly but surely overtaking her.

"It's a wonder they sent you out instead of your brother. Murtagh may have been a 'traitor' but he's stronger than you." Galbatorix taunted. "Even if he was a disgusting, worthless piece of waste. Morzan would roll in his grave if he could see what his son has become."

Eragon tried not to let the words get to him. He knew the King was trying to provoke him into a hasty attack, trying to give himself an opening, but it was hard to just hear the man speak of the red Rider that way.

Eragon kept his eyes on the King, searching for an opening that he could exploit, but he saw nothing. Shruikan's talons suddenly lashed out and Saphira howled with pain before veering left in a tight circle, away from the claws. The black dragon was larger and couldn't manage the quick turn- Shruikan shot past them, but Galbatorix was already ordering the beast back around.

They had bought themselves a few seconds.

(Saphira, are you all right?) Eragon called, divided between worry for his dragon and need to keep an eye on his greatest enemy.

(Only caught part of my tail. I'll be fine; worry about that later!) Saphira replied, angling her body up once more to shoot towards a few low-hanging clouds.

Shruikan was several yards behind them, but closing fast.

(Saphira, can you turn and fly at them? Running will only tire us out long before Shruikan tires.)

(Understood.)

The sapphire dragon whirled around, suddenly flying at the black beast and his Rider. Shruikan awkwardly backflapped, trying to veer away from the unexpected charge.

Saphira shot forward, ready to latch onto the larger dragon's neck, but Shruikan quickly recovered his senses and moved his horns directly into her charge. She would spear herself before landing tooth on the bigger dragon; she veered up and to the left, then immediately turned and dove towards the much more vulnerable Rider on Shruikan's back.

Eragon waited, ready with blade in hand. Saphira quickly changed course, going for the black dragon's vulnerable neck and slamming her side into that of her opponent. At the same moment, Eragon brought his sword down towards Galbatorix, now within range.

The soft hiss of metal being drawn was followed by the clang of metal meeting metal; Galbatorix now held his own sword, the color a deep forest green with an emerald set into the pommel, the color of the King's original dragon.

Galbatorix was grinning madly. Fleetingly, Eragon realized that the King must have expected the attack.

"Do you share that loathsome perversion?" Galbatorix sneered, so much disgust in his tone it seemed at odds with the mad grin he still wore.

(Saphira, fly!) Eragon commanded just before something slammed into his mind.

It was a mental attack, not a physical one, but it felt physical. Black magic was pouring into his mind, brute force smashing through his mental barriers and rampaging through his thoughts.

Hands made of toxic oil combed through his mind, sifting through and seemingly gloating over every bad memory, every embarrassment, every moment Eragon had felt helpless. The blue Rider's mind was being forced wide open, the worst kind of violation there was.

(Eragon!) Even Saphira's scream, thick with worry and fear, seemed to only distantly penetrate the haze of black that seemed to cloud his senses.

_The moment he had ignored the broken, bleeding figure in the alley as Talc silently begged for help._

_Being held in place while used as a punching bag for the crime of loving someone._

_Roran's declaring that they were no longer family, the cold conviction._

Under those oily, tainted hands, another memory began to rise.

_"About what you said that night... about waiting for when I'd be ready... Did you mean it? I... I think I'm ready."_

_"May I kiss you?"_

_Soft lips, gentle pressure._

_Guilt._

_Betrayal._

"No!" Eragon screamed, frantically pushing the memory and the guilt he still felt over that night down. It rose like bile in his throat, but even that was almost welcome over the tainted magic still engulfing him.

This had to stop, it had gone on too long already...

Half-panicking, Eragon ran through the words of the Ancient Language he knew. He had to stop Galbatorix from seeing any more painful memories.

"Brakka du vanyali sem huildar pomnuria niiektes!" Eragon shouted. Instantly blue magic raced through him, almost exploding inside of his mind and forcing the dark magic out. The two magics fought inside of Eragon's mind- he yelled in pain.

Finally, the pain cleared. Galbatorix's magic had been successfully forced out, but it still hung just at the edge of the blue magic barrier, testing for a way to slip through his defenses.

Shaking, Eragon vowed not to let it happen again.

(Eragon?!) Saphira called frantically.

(I'll be all right.) The blue Rider looked around for his opponent, noting that they were much higher in the sky. Clouds drifted by just above them, the noises of battle only distant sounds on the wind. (Where are they?)

(I don't know. I can see the pass, so Galbatorix isn't attacking our people there.) Saphira still seemed worried, but they couldn't waste time.

A slight displacement of air was the only warning they got.

Senses still slightly fogged from the remaining traces of Galbatorix's magic, Eragon almost didn't catch the slight noise of beating wings.

(Saphira, go right.)

The blue dragon heeded the warning without hesitation, darting to the right just as Shruikan swooped through their previous position, talons extended.

Galbatorix quickly brought the dragon around, using some of the downward momentum to swing it to face Saphira and Eragon quickly.

"I never expected you to throw off my magic so quickly. Still, you're waste just like Morzan's other son." Galbatorix declared.

Eragon gritted his teeth, ignoring the taunts.

(Saphira, go for Shruikan's eyes. Try to blind him.)

Saphira gave no outward sign that she had heard, simply diving directly for the larger dragon. At the last moment she opened her wings, bringing her hind legs and hind claws to bear.

Shruikan was unable to fully dodge and for the first time in the fight Saphira drew blood. The black dragon had, however, managed to jerk out of the way so that Saphira's claws fell on the skin of Shruikan's snout, not eyes.

(We need cover- head back for the clouds.) Eragon ordered. Saphira veered away, flapping for altitude as Shruikan roared with the pain of the scratches behind her.

They burst into the clouds, using the cover to circle around and get behind the large black beast.

Galbatorix didn't seem to notice that they had circled, still searching the sky in front of him.

(Let's end this now, Saphira.) Eragon said, hand tightening on Ceszori's hilt. (Come up on his right side- try and get me close enough so that I can run him through.)

(Let's.) Saphira agreed, baring her teeth in a silent snarl.

Saphira dove. Eragon leaned towards the left, aiming the sharp point of his weapon at the weak point of Galbatorix's armor- right where two of the plates that made up the torso were welded together.

Galbatorix had heard them, for he started to turn his head, but too late.

Metal screamed against metal, but this time it was not the sound of two swords meeting. Ceszori drove through Galbatorix's armor, propelled by the force of Saphira's dive.

The sharp sword poked easily through Galbatorix's flesh, cutting straight through the King just under the ribs and an inch or two right of the man's spine.

As Saphira continued her dive, Eragon kept a grip on his sword's hilt. The weapon twisted inside of Galbatorix's body as dragon and Rider passed the King, tearing through the rest of the metal armor to make a ragged-edged semicircle through Galbatorix's abdomen. The metal armor screamed as it was torn, just like the man inside of it yelled.

Sword dripping with blood and other things Eragon didn't care to think about, he asked Saphira to turn. She did.

The wound he had given Galbatorix was fatal, he knew. He had cut through some vital organs and the wound would kill his enemy in minutes.

It seemed too easy. After all the dire warnings about the King's magic and Murtagh telling him to kill the King quickly...

This couldn't be it.

Saphira flew carefully back towards Shruikan, carefully staying beyond the reach of the black dragon. Shruikan was flailing madly, though the man on his back was hunched over, one hand limply holding his sword and the other clutching his wound.

"You're better than I thought... brat." Galbatorix spat, voice raspy. Traces of blood ran down the man's chin.

Had it really been that easy?

Suddenly, Shruikan fell.

Or more properly, dove.

Taken aback, it took Saphira several moments to follow. By then, the black dragon and Rider were almost to the treetops.

As Saphira followed, Eragon could hear the sounds of the dead and dying grow louder, metal screeching against metal in the battle between the two armies. A sound drifted to his ears above the clamor of battle; laughter.

Galbatorix was laughing.

"You should have finished me off, brat!" the King crowed.

(Has he gone mad?) Saphira questioned, echoing Eragon's thoughts and sounding just as shocked as he.

(The injury's fatal. He has to know that!) Eragon didn't know what to think. It had seemed too easy, yes, but he had struck. He could see the blood pushing past Galbatorix's fingers; he had connected and drawn his blade through.

To his shock, he saw Galbatorix sheath his blade, instead extending the hand towards the top of the nearest cliff.

"Reisa, aginasn!" the King cried out.

At his command, several people rose into the air- archers, all of them. Eragon watched, unable to move for shock, as they kicked helplessly, trying to fight against bonds they could neither see nor touch.

As Galbatorix drew the frightened people closer to him, over the lip of the cliff, Eragon acted.

"Put them back!" he shouted, urging Saphira forward.

Shruikan headed back into the sky, Galbatorix's magic pulling the people he had grabbed off the top of the cliff behind the beast.

Saphira's wings pumped madly, straining to catch up to the King, the King who should be, by all rights, dead within the minute.

Shruikan wheeled around in midair, flapping his wings to stay steady. Galbatorix's 'catch' floated next to him, some of the people still kicking and screaming to be put down while some seem paralyzed from fright. Eragon couldn't blame them; he would be scared to be so high up if not for the comforting presence of his dragon.

"Let them go!" the Rider demanded, bringing Saphira to a halt.

"Let go?" Galbatorix asked sarcastically, temporarily loosening his magical hold on the people he had captured. They dropped a foot, screams deafening.

"No!" Eragon and Saphira lurched forward, but the people had begun floating again, caught in Galbatorix's magic.

"We both know who has the bargaining power at the moment." Galbatorix stated.

(He should be dying.) Saphira's mental voice was a near-whisper, shock showing more clearly than anything. (And that smell... the smell of fire so strong it's frightening... it's getting stronger.)

Eragon didn't have time to ponder what she meant- the King had turned to his hostages.

"I can already tell that most of you are useless, but which one of you has the strongest spirit?" Galbatorix was plainly speaking aloud for Eragon's benefit.

"Spirit?" Eragon asked, unable to help the question as it passed his lips without conscious permission.

"Call it a soul, call it life essence, call it what you will." Galbatorix had a sickeningly dark smile on his face as he spoke, lifting the hand holding his wound into the air. He pretended to count off the people he had, as though he were a small child choosing what candy to buy in the store.

"You? No... perhaps you? No... Ah!" Galbatorix's voice was triumphant and he pointed to a person partially hidden behind another. "Your spirit seems strong enough. The rest aren't even worth eating."

'Eating?!' Eragon thought in alarm.

Suddenly, the people not chosen by the king dropped from the sky. Some screamed instantly, though it took a moment for some of them to realize that they were falling.

Eragon watched, hand lifting and mind racing, trying to think of some magic he could cast to catch those people and place them gently on the ground, but no spell he knew could guarantee their safety.

In the next few seconds, it no longer mattered.

Only dark red splashes were visible to Eragon, high as he was in the sky.

"We've got a live one!"

Galbatorix's mocking voice brought him back. He jerked his head towards the King and one remaining hostage, hoping to at least save the person Galbatorix had picked.

The person flailed wildly, black hair whipping about their face, keeping up a constant stream of incoherent shouts. Eragon caught the barest glimpse of green eyes and suddenly his heart felt like lead.

"Krin!" he shouted, recognizing the struggling figure as the teen he had come to know and like.

"Sir Eragon!" Krin shouted back, stopping his struggles and staring wide-eyed and terrified at the Rider.

"So you two know each other?" Galbatorix's grin grew wider, obviously pleased by the knowledge. "Perhaps you corrupt the younger ones too, eh, 'Sir' Eragon?"

"Don't speak to him like that!" Krin shouted bravely, trying and failing to kick the King. Galbatorix seemed amused, despite the fact that his earlier injury should have killed him by now.

"You'll do nicely." With that, Galbatorix made a slashing motion with the hand he had just used to select Krin from the rest of his prisoners.

"Freohr hikam!"

Black magic followed the motion of Galbatorix's hand, forming a near perfect crescent before racing towards the King's victim, held helpless in the air.

Krin lifted his arms to somehow block the spell, but it was useless. Eragon could only watch as the boy who considered him a brother took the full brunt of the spell, a scream tearing from Krin's throat.

It was unlike any spell Eragon had ever witnessed- it slammed into Krin and with a giant flash, disappeared, leaving only a gaping wound surrounded by black magic in Krin's chest.

Krin lifted a his hands, arms shaking, to press against the wound. Unlike natural wounds, there was no blood.

Stunned by the effects of the spell, Eragon didn't notice as Galbatorix began to reel Krin in, pulling the teen closer and reaching a hand out to the bloodless wound in Krin's chest.

The teenager tried futilely to shove away the King's hands, but Krin was helpless.

Eragon started forward, but it was too late, part of him knew it had been too late since Galbatorix had levitated those poor people on the clifftop.

Galbatorix smirked at him once more before turning his full attention to Krin.

He seized the top of Krin's torn shirt with one hand, ending the levitation spell so that Krin's body sagged limply in his hand. The other hand reached for the wound.

"Entfernen osu orokko un begen eka sein macht (Remove his soul and give me its power)." The King intoned, then reached into Krin's chest.

Krin screamed, struggling harder, but he had no power left to struggle with. Smirking, Galbatorix drew something out of the teen's chest, through the wound.

It was a navy blue orb, a bright, near-white glow in the center and dark blue spreading out from the bright point at the center. It seemed to pulse, energy running through it rapidly and strongly enough that Eragon could feel the edges of its power create a breeze blowing past him, still yards from the object.

Krin seemed to have gone completely limp, the only indication that he still lived the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Eragon watched in dawning horror and realization as Galbatorix lifted the orb to his mouth, opening his mouth wide and seemingly breathing in the navy blue energy.

The navy blue orb had to be Krin's soul, his spirit, Eragon realized as the last traces of it disappeared into Galbatorix's maw.

Numbly, Eragon watched as the wound he had given Galbatorix healed. Within seconds, the wound had disappeared all together, not even a faint scar to show that it had once been.

"Ah... tasty." Galbatorix said cruelly, then opened his fist and allowed Krin's soulless body to drop. "I no longer need this shell."

"No!" Eragon screamed, Saphira echoing his cry and diving after the body. The teen's body, however, already had a few precious seconds of freefall time and was falling faster than Saphira. Eragon's only reward was being able to see Krin's body splinter and break far more closely.

Red bloomed beneath the broken pieces of Krin's body, blood oozing over the ground. The teen's chest, what was left, was still. The heart didn't beat. The lungs no longer drew in or expelled air.

Krin was dead.

Wingbeats sounded behind him; Shruikan had followed.

"So he was important to you." Galbatorix seemed pleased by this. "Shall I find someone else you care about and kill them? Your reactions are amusing; perhaps I'll go after my ex-puppet, your dear brother?"

Eragon shut his eyes tightly, frustration, anger, and pain all welling up inside of him. Hot tears stung his eyes, but he forced them back.

Later, he would grieve. Now, he would get revenge and protect those who were still alive.

"Don't you lay a hand on him!" he cried, Saphira whirling about. Saphira roared her anger and Eragon roared with her, taking a firmer grip on his sword as his dragon rushed their enemies, their only desire the death of their most hated enemy.

TBC...

Ancient Language Translation:

Brakka du vanyali sem huildar pomnuria niiektes – Basically, 'Reduce the magic that holds my senses'. The only word I made up there was 'senses'. (Boy, it's been a while since I used the AL, huh? Seems like a long time since I did a translation, anyway…)

Reisa, aginasn – 'Rise, people', in which I made up the word for 'people'.

Freohr hikam – Made this one up a long time ago. I used the word for 'death' from the AL (at least I think it was death, it's a bit difficult to tell) and then played around with the word for 'god' in Japanese and added an 'h' in. This translates to 'Death God', basically.

Entfernen osu orokko un begen eka sein macht – I thought everyone would want a translation of this one right away, since the meaning wasn't obvious and was important. Again, it means 'Remove his soul and give me its power'. I made up most of the words in that sentence, except for 'un' (and) and 'eka' (me).

A/N: Okay, so how many people want to kill me now? (looks around; every hand is raised.) Yikes! (scurries away from scary people with pitchforks)

Review Replies (those w/out an account):

Phoenix – You really are too kind! I'm really glad you enjoyed the whole 'just information' chapter. Things in that chapter needed to be said, and while info chapters aren't always the best, they're necessary. Again, very happy you enjoyed it anyway! I'm also happy you were fond of Krin- please don't be too mad at me for what happened in this chapter? (dodges thrown tomatoes) Of course I will always reply to reviews; well, at least as often as I can. I hope my story continues to live up to expectations! (I really, really hope the battle so far isn't disappointing you. I know you haven't found an impressive one yet, and I won't go so far as to ask if my version is impressive, but I can at least hope for it not being a disappointment, right?) It's funny you should mention 'force me to get up halfway through a chapter and walk around the room a few times to calm my nerves'- I do that too! Whenever I read something I really like, I have to get up and walk around, or squeal, or something. (I get very odd looks when I do that at school… can't _imagine_ why… )

Anonymous – I hope you enjoyed the beginning of the battle! There is more yet to come!

3.14 – Of course I update when you leave the country. Great timing on my part! XD Kidding! Glad you liked the previous chapter; I know you were expecting some of the events that happened in this chapter, but didja enjoy it regardless?


	35. War

**BLANKET WARNINGS**: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Extra Warning For This Chapter: Violence. Lots and lots of violence. (I thought I should warn you since I believe this chapter is the most violent and bloody in the story thus far.)

A/N: Sorry! My computer was down for a while and I had all my outlines and notes on the downed computer. My dad had to take it in to get it fixed and I didn't get it back for a while. I was also just on vacation to Egypt; I wasn't planning on writing during it, but the mood struck and I produced this. (It may be slightly different from my normal chapters, since I wrote this one out by hand instead of just writing it on my laptop.)

Special thanks to Phoenix for pointing out my mistake on Galbatorix's dragon's name. I have corrected it.

On with the story!

Italics: _dreams or imaginings or memories_

In Dreams Chapter XIII, Part C

Distant footfalls echoed on the sheer rock walls that nearly surrounded the red Rider and his dragon. Only a bit of the pass was visible from where Murtagh lay in wait, but more than enough was visible to give him ample warning of the enemy's approach. Rock walls rose on either side and at his back, making him a bit edgy at the feeling of being cornered.

The ground before him was rocky and dry, the bed to a river that had disappeared long ago. A few trees and some vegetation clung to life, existing on what little rainfall made it to the bottom of the pass each year. The green growths and small flowers on the cliffside seemed to be doing better than the plants at the bottom of the gorge.

Murtagh sighed slowly, attention wandering further from the enemy's slow but steady approach. Hazel eyes wandered from the near-lifeless ground before him to the one place in sight where plants yet thrived; the top of the cliffs. More specifically, he stared off into the distance at a cliff he couldn't see because of the bend in the pass. A cliff he couldn't see but could imagine; the one his fellow Rider was stationed on.

Eragon was waiting for the battle, just as Murtagh was.

The blue Rider had kept the cloak. He hadn't burned it or torn it to shreds, as Murtagh had half-expected. Instead, Eragon had kept the cloak, the simple action enough to cause hope to bloom in the red Rider's chest. Hope he had thought died with Eragon's earlier betrayal; hope for the future, for happiness, for proof that not all dreams were foolish wishes.

Then again, he could be reading too much into his brother's actions. Perhaps Eragon simply didn't want to bother with getting a blanket from the Varden each night.

The look in Eragon's eyes had said differently.

Murtagh had moved before thinking when his brother had jumped into Saphira's saddle, hands moving with the ease of long practice to fasten the leather loops around Eragon's leg.

Eragon had frozen, startled, but had then finished tying up his other leg. After some forced pleasantries, he had turned to Murtagh.

The blue Rider had been so unsure, almost afraid to face him. Hope had been only thinly veiled in the other Rider's expression.

An angry snort interrupted his thoughts. Either Thorn had been purposefully eavesdropping, as he had often done when he was younger, or Murtagh had been accidentally broadcasting.

(Thorn-) Murtagh started to say, a bit defensive, but then the sound of nearby footfalls reached his ears.

(I just broke into your thoughts to tell you company had arrived. You were a bit distracted.) Thorn said dryly.

The Rider didn't reply, staring at the previously unnoticed line of soldiers marching boldly down the pass. Said soldiers were clad in red and black uniforms with Galbatorix's dragon crest in gold thread on the chest; hardly subtle. Each carried his own weapon, be it a spear, sword, or other potentially deadly object, and walked with four fellow-soldiers.

Every six rows there would be a wagon with supplies. Each wagon was guarded by six men, three on each side, and pulled by donkeys or horses. Murtagh looked, but he couldn't pick out where the mages were in the lines of soldiers. It was likely that the mages had been disguised as normal soldiers and were marching with the rest, probably to prevent the Varden from targeting the magic-users first. With no way of telling who shielded the normal soldiers from magic attacks, the rebels would need to fight every soldier before finding the mage.

The red Rider briefly scowled at his inattention.

(Thanks for the warning.) He eyed the line, calculating the time until the enemy army got close enough for maximum effect. The frontline was still a good twenty or so feet away, giving him a few seconds to plan.

Murtagh's hand moved to Za'roc's hilt, the familiar grip comforting despite the fact that the Rider was certain he wouldn't need it. Aerial attacks only for him; he would be much more useful in the air than on the ground.

(No problem.) Thorn replied. The dragon's voice took on an apologetic tone. (I don't mean to be angry. I know you love him, but I hate to see you hurt. I don't want to see you reach for happiness again and have him destroy it.)

(I know you're worried, but this isn't the time to discuss this.) Murtagh kept an eye on the line as the soldiers closed the distance, getting dangerously close to the Rider and dragon hidden behind an illusion. The soldiers could see nothing but an open route to a supposedly unaware and defenseless Surda.

It was time to act.

Murtagh involuntarily tensed, then took a deep breath to relax and steady his nerves.

(Just... be careful.) Thorn told him. Sensing his Rider's readiness to fight, he shifted slightly and prepared to lunge.

(I will be.) With one more deep breath and the knowledge that the soldiers would discover the illusion the hard way if he didn't attack soon, he gave the command. (Go.)

Murtagh dropped the illusion as Thorn lunged, revealing Rider, dragon, and wall of stones as tall as the cliffs themselves. Three men fell before they knew they were in danger, torn apart by Thorn's claws. Two fell to Murtagh's cry of 'brisingr', the others realizing the presence of the enemy as the targeted soldiers burst into flames. The stench of burnt flesh and hair drifted into the air as the blackened corpses fell to the ground.

One more died as the men in front began to raise the alarm, torn in two by Thorn's teeth.

The dragon spat the torso of the man back out onto the ground, blood creating an almost invisible track down his ruby snout.

Thorn roared, spreading his magnificent wings and taking flight. As he took off he whipped his tail into the next two lines of soldiers, sending them hurtling into the nearest rock wall. The lucky ones took the full impact and died instantly. The six who lingered on were picked off by arrows as Thorn ascended.

Just a minute or two had passed since Murtagh had dropped the illusion. Galbatorix's men had barely a chance to scream as they died, let alone retaliate. The merciless attack left a bad taste in Murtagh's mouth, especially as the men were getting chances to scream now as arrows rained down and struck eyes, arms, legs, chests, rarely killing on the first strike.

Screams filled the air as Thorn continued to rise, the Rider concentrating on not listening as the trapped soldiers cried out for mercy, for their mothers, for their God to save them.

The donkeys used to pull the first wagon reared back, whining frantically to be let free.

He deafened his ear to the sounds, unable to listen to the screams of men he would have commanded in this fight had things gone differently at the previous battle.

This was war. If Galbatorix won, the punishment for everyone in the Varden would either be death by torture or slavery. There could be no mercy until the Varden was victorious, no mercy except a quick, painless death.

No mercy. This was war.

Thorn's growl split the air as the dragon continued to climb beyond the canyon walls and then the treetops, well above where they were supposed to be to deal maximum damage.

(Thorn, what-)

(I smell him. That filthy _creature_ is overhead and I don't plan to give him an easy target. Here, at least, I can dodge.)

As Thorn spoke, Murtagh extended his magical senses. It didn't take long to sense the man who had once held his free will captive.

Galbatorix's magic practically leaked from the man, his very presence turning the air thick and unpleasant. The red Rider twisted in Thorn's saddle, glaring up at the terrible figure in the sky above. Keeping his eyes trained on the king, Murtagh quietly prepared several defensive spells he could use if the older Rider tried anything.

With just a moment's warning of displaced air, Saphira was suddenly there, blocking Galbatorix from Murtagh's sight. An odd mix of worry and relief coursed through him at the sight, the same odd mixture running through Thorn. The king was Eragon's problem now; it was Eragon's fight unless the blue Rider needed Murtagh to take his place.

The red Rider and ruby dragon couldn't help but worry whether or not their loved ones would come back to them in one piece.

Turning from the two dragons already beginning to fight in the sky above, Thorn began to lower himself back down to fly in-between the cliffs. Without preamble he began breathing fire, flames hitting the dry ground and setting the sparse vegetation on fire. The fire spread, licking the boots and pants of soldiers too slow to move out of the way and crawling hungrily up their bodies to reduce them to ash. The donkeys nearby brayed in alarm as the fire moved towards them. Weighed down by the wagon, they couldn't turn fast enough to escape and their fur caught fire. The pair tried to run, but the wind stirred up by the pounding hooves added fuel to the fire and it spread more quickly. In their haste, the donkeys trampled several men trying to turn and escape the canyon of death.

The wagon burst into flames as the fire continued to spread, trapping some men under its wheels and spreading the flames to others.

The donkeys finally fell under the fire's influence, having cut a broad and bloody path in their attempt to escape. Some of the men, still alive after being trampled and run over, were picked off by arrows, the magic of Varden mages, or additional flames from Thorn's mouth.

That wasn't the only pair of donkey's to try and run when spooked by fire. Murtagh and Thorn saw the scene repeated all over the canyon as they flew. Horses trampled the men trying to save them in their haste to get away from the flames already consuming their handsome coats. Wagons caught fire and food supplies were gone in the blink of an eye. Spears were reduced to blackened points of stone and some of the cheaper swords warped under the force of dragonfire.

They must have witnessed the death of a hundred men already, but that wasn't nearly enough to cripple Galbatorix's army. The well-trained were making sure they were well-armed and finding the protection of a mage. Thorn's firebreath began to land on magical shields designed to defend against widespread damage instead of burnable flesh.

Flying over one such shielded group, Murtagh scanned the crowd to try and find the mage, mind working quickly to figure out a solution to the problem of the disguises.

It hit him a moment later and he wasted no time in putting it into action. His mind went to work investigating the minds of the soldiers beneath him, scanning their surface thoughts.

The Rider quickly worked his way through the minds of ordinary soldiers, thoughts of wives, children, friends, families, and lovers not his own flashing through his head before being shoved aside.

He could not think of the people waiting at home for these men, men who would never leave this battlefield.

The Rider finally encountered resistance to his mental probing, a mind awash in yellow magic. He pinpointed the man, instantly noting the improper grip the man held on the long spear. This was the mage.

The man must have sensed Murtagh's attention, for he looked up into Murtagh's face.

The Rider couldn't make out the features, but he could sense the fear, the terror.

"Blothr osu onr." No mercy.

The man crumpled, heart having stopped before he realized he was dying. Quick, painless, cold. The soldiers that had been under the mage's protection saw their yellow shield flicker and die. Most turned to run, all having seen the dragon-shaped shadow hovering over them and knowing what came next if they didn't find another source of magical protection. Some, the archers of the group, nocked arrows and aimed.

Before they could fire, both archers and arrows were reduced to ashes. The running soldiers weren't far behind, some dropping and rolling along the burning ground to try and put out the flames while others ran screaming from the stench of death and burnt skin.

Heart heavy and with a lump in his throat, Murtagh continued on. He spurred Thorn to the next large group of soldiers, heading for the pass entrance where actual fighting would be going on, where the ground forces of the Varden had been stationed and fighting and killing wouldn't feel so much like cold-blooded murder, wholesale slaughter.

It wasn't just an ambush or the Varden's only hope for victory; it was a massacre too.

The flames spread on the ground, consuming even the already dead bodies of the soldiers and the bodies of those still dying, arrow or magical wounds preventing them from moving. Ash was all that remained, ash and the scent of burnt hair, flesh, and death and smoke and screams drifted into the clear blue sky.

Line Break

(Saphira, dive!) Eragon commanded, more a warning than an order. The sapphire dragon was already moving, wings tucked to aid their drop towards the distant trees.

A burst of fire sailed harmlessly overhead, missing the Rider by several feet. The brunette allowed himself a small, grim smile as Saphira pulled out of the dive and circled around the black dragon above and behind them in the sky. Saphira had dodged Shruikan's flames before Eragon had warned her. His dragon was getting better at predicting the larger beast's actions, just as Eragon's ability to predict Galbatorix's movements had grown drastically.

As expected, the king had ordered his dragon into a dive in order to follow the younger Rider-dragon pair. Saphira, however, had circled too quickly for Shruikan to follow. The black beast was in the process of turning when Saphira flew at the unprotected neck.

It was a bit risky since Shruikan would easily be able to bite through Saphira's neck, metal plates and all, if the older dragon turned in time and the younger couldn't dodge. Still, the potential reward outweighed the risk and this maneuver had so far succeeded three times out of five.

Shruikan was still bleeding from the last such attack, several scales torn away from his neck and deep gashes from Saphira's claws still dripping.

Saphira's claws once again found purchase in Shruikan's neck and the black dragon roared in pain before whipping his head around to bite at the smaller dragon. Saphira had attacked too close to his body; the larger beast was able to get his head around and his teeth nearly found flesh when Saphira dodged. With an angry snarl, she pulled away and dove, the attack barely grazing her tail.

Expecting their opponents to follow, Saphira angled upwards and spun in midair to face the enemy.

Galbatorix hadn't moved.

Eragon watched suspiciously as his opponent just hung there, dragon's wings pumping lightly as the creature hovered.

"Is your defiance... really worth all of this?" the king asked him, shouting to be heard. A hand, one that had been holding a shoulder injured by Ceszori, gestured to the battlefield far below.

Eragon's eyes flicked down instinctively before moving back to the king. Even the brief glance had made his stomach clench.

The scene below was one of pure carnage.

Parts of the pass itself were burned black, the clifftops blackened in areas by fire spells likely cast by the king's mages. One cliff was entirely gone, brought down by more magic, and the red spots at the bottom of the canyon were too visible against the black ash.

Even so, the fight continued. Screams still drifted passed the Rider's ears. When he looked he could still see the groups of soldiers that had somehow gotten atop the cliffs and were attacking the archers, the mages, and the ground fighters who were trying to help their fellow rebels. So many dead...

"It's not too late to join me. Even now it's not too late."

Stunned and horrified by the unexpected offer, Eragon only stared at Galbatorix. The king seemed perfectly calm and sincere about his offer, causing an uneasy feeling to grow inside of the blue Rider.

"You're a better warrior than I expected. I can always use those with strength in my army. Besides, the seat at my right hand has been empty since your father, Morzan, was killed by a foolish old man. Murtagh was never good enough to hold such responsibility, but you have the potential to be great." Galbatorix extended a hand. "Join me."

The unintentional reminder of the first mentor he had had in his journey to become a true Rider shook Eragon out of his stupor. He gritted his teeth at the remembered sensation of loss, shoving his grief aside in favor of anger.

He couldn't figure out what the king was trying to do; he couldn't actually mean the offer. Galbatorix likely knew that Eragon would never agree to work for the king. So why...?

Unless... maybe the king was afraid he was losing and the offer was some sort of trick to buy time until he could figure out a way to turn things around?

Quickly, Eragon took stock of their respective wounds.

Both his helmet and gauntlets were gone- the helmet had come off when Saphira had been forced to spin upside down to avoid an attack, and he had lost one gauntlet each to an ice spell and sword attack from Galbatorix. Ceszori hung, sheathed, from his belt.

A cut on his forehead, minor though it was, had nevertheless bled heavily and Eragon was certain his ribs and left side were bruised from an attack that would have sliced him in two had he not worn such fine armor. As it was, the outline of the strike was still visible in the metal, it having bent inward from the force. Minor cuts traveled up and down his arms, one deep gash along his right forearm and left shoulder badly burned by magic. Some of his neck and hair had been singed as well. One of his legs was broken, hit by a spell he hadn't been able to block or dodge, and a deep cut still bled sluggishly on his thigh. The wound to his thigh had severed several riding straps as well, making that leg less secure than Eragon would have liked.

Slowly, his magic was beginning to wane as well. He had exhausted some of the gems in his belt when he expelled Galbatorix from his mind and had needed to resist the king's attempts to get inside his head several time since. With all the defensive and offensive spells he was using, he was down to the magic stored in Ceszori's jewel and the magic inside his body.

Saphira was covered in minor wounds, her only major damage three deep gashes on her sides from where Shruikan had tried and ultimately failed to grab her.

The black dragon himself had no major damage besides the neck wound, but minor scrapes and scratches covered his legs, body, and tail.

Galbatorix had one wounded shoulder from a rather well-placed strike by Eragon's blade. A few riding straps were cut on one side from a strike too shallow to draw blood, but the king's other leg was cut deeply from hip to knee. Several straps had been destroyed, almost freeing the leg.

The armor the king wore had protected most of his body, but Eragon had managed to remove pieces of it and put scratches on what remained. An ice spell Eragon had cast had frozen part of Galbatorix's armor and chest before the king had managed to stop it. Another spell had burned the king's bald head and part of his face, the black and red burn giving the man an almost demonic appearance. A shallow cut on his right cheek ended the list of damage to Galbatorix.

"That 'foolish old man' was named Brom." Eragon snapped. He made a vague, tight gesture between himself and Galbatorix. "We seem pretty evenly matched. What makes you think I would want to join you?"

Eragon took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. Anger led to haste and haste to getting himself killed.

"What makes you think," he reiterated, voice struggling to be level. "-that I would ever want to join you?"

Images began to play behind his eyes. Garrow's body, motionless and burning; Brom, dead from a Ra'zac's knife and resting underneath pure crystal; Krin, lifeless body tumbling through the air to end as only a blood-red stain on the ground. Others, those not killed but simply harmed through Galbatorix's rule. There was Arya, tortured for weeks by Durza and only able to cope by disassociating herself from the trauma; Roran, forced into leadership too early and forced to leave his home and everything he knew; Nasuada, forced to become a leader for hundreds by the premature death of her father. Countless others, those he had never met and those he would never meet, suffered every day, sending off brothers, sons, and husbands to fight the group intending to free them. Lives completely destroyed by the war, families sundered, all to bring down one unspeakably evil man.

Last, he thought of the one who had suffered most because of Galbatorix. An unwilling traitor and now untrusted ally, one who had been forced into slavery and mind torn open for Galbatorix to see all his darkest secrets and terrible memories. The one who Eragon himself had betrayed so horribly.

Murtagh. The brother he could not see as a brother. The one he could only now admit he loved; the one who hopefully loved him still, despite everything that had happened between them.

Galbatorix seemed mildly disappointed by Eragon's refusal, but only mildly. Alarm bells began to go off in the blue Rider's mind, more memories of what Murtagh had been forced into spinning through his mind.

"I won't. Never. You can't make me." Eragon said, horrified at the very thought. Murtagh had survived being controlled by the king, but Eragon wasn't sure he had the same inner strength to survive with his sanity intact.

"I don't intend to. Pity, but it seems the 'new age' of Dragon Riders is over before it was truly begun." Galbatorix's uninjured arm came up before Eragon had time to prepare himself for the continuation of their fight.

"Garjzla."

At the king's command, a brilliant white light exploded into being. Eragon cried out and Saphira shrieked, both caught off-guard by what seemed to be the light of a hundred suns. Both man and dragon instinctively tried to close their eyes, Eragon raising his arm to try and further block the light. Said light burned out of existence several moments later, but the damage had been done. Temporarily blind, as was his dragon, Eragon could no longer tell where Galbatorix was, or even if the king had moved since casting.

In any case, Eragon had to move; waiting made him an easy mark.

(Saphira, higher!)

With no way of telling how close the ground was, Eragon couldn't risk a dive. They would probably crash into the treetops before it occurred to either of them to pull up.

The sapphire dragon angled upwards immediately, flapping powerfully.

It was eerie and worrisome how Eragon couldn't pinpoint his enemy's location- he heard nothing but the flap of his dragon's wings and the pounding of his own heart.

Galbatorix had to plan on attacking. Eragon's vision was already starting to clear, but he couldn't make out much beyond a vague hint of blue. The king wouldn't create the opportunity and then not use it, especially since Eragon would be watching for the light trick now. It wouldn't catch him off guard again, though he wasn't sure yet how he'd block it.

All of a sudden, Saphira began to plummet. It was as if her wings had just stopped working, though Eragon couldn't tell without his sight.

"Saphira?!" Eragon screamed, panicked as they continued to fall. He held tightly onto the saddle he couldn't see, knuckles turning white with the desperation of his grip.

They stopped just as abruptly as they had started, with an added jarring impact the Rider was certain his dragon had gotten the worst of.

They hadn't been falling long; Eragon was fairly certain they hadn't hit the ground, but wasn't sure what had caused the impact.

(Saphira, what hap-)

(Eragon, I-I can't move.) Her voice clearly showed her strain and the sharp edge of panic made Eragon's anger cool and blood run cold.

His vision continued to clear, clearing enough to allow the Rider to make out a large, dark shape some dozens of feet away and a bit above. Eragon didn't need his vision to clear fully to figure out what had happened. Galbatorix had obviously paralyzed Saphira with magic and then levitated her through the same means. It was a lot like when the king had levitated those poor people and Krin from the clifftop-

The bottom seemed to drop out of Eragon's stomach as his vision fully cleared and he realized the king's true intentions.

(We have to get you free. We have to move.) he thought frantically. He could have cut the riding straps and jumped, but that would mean abandoning Saphira. Eragon wasn't sure if the spell Galbatorix had created worked on dragons, but he couldn't risk Galbatorix stealing Saphira's spirit.

Besides, the ground was a long way down and falling bodies weren't exactly difficult to intercept or hit.

(I'm trying!) Saphira was just as panicked, having come to the conclusion moments before Eragon had. Her muscles shook with strain, but she didn't move. The paralysis spell was good and wouldn't wear off soon enough or be broken by physical means.

He needed to get her free, and fast.

"Brakka du vanyalí-" he began, but was cut off by a malicious, booming voice he had become familiar with over the course of their fight.

"Too late. You should have joined me. I suppose, in a way, you are. Your power will feed my own, and it is your power I'll use to kill every last man, woman, and child in the Varden." Galbatorix smiled cruelly. "The souls of Riders did always taste best... so much power contained inside one person..."

Eragon tried to finish the spell, words coming to his lips, but he knew that even if he finished the spell now it was too late. He wouldn't have time to dodge even if he was free.

Galbatorix lifted his hand, magic already collected in the palm, and spoke.

"Freohr hikam."

Line Break

Murtagh had thought that the battle was going pretty well. While the Varden suffered casualties, Galbatorix's army suffered heavier loss of life. When he chanced glances at the battle in the sky, the king and blue Rider seemed pretty even in terms of strength.

He was starting to seriously think that they would win. The red Rider stayed on dragonback, directing Thorn to make calculated bursts where men from Galbatorix's army were concentrated. They had landed once or twice for greater precision, but the Varden seemed to be holding its own.

Some of the red and black clad mages and soldiers managed to put up a good fight with weapons rescued from the corpses of their fellows or the wagons, but it was obvious that the ground victory would soon belong to the Varden.

A flash of light in the sky caught his attention and he turned in the saddle to look up. The light didn't bode well; when he saw Saphira and Eragon fall, he knew the ominous feeling in his chest was right.

Even before they were stopped by an invisible force, Murtagh knew Galbatorix's plan. He had seen it too often while living in Uru'baen. Thorn turned towards the light as well, having caught the flash out of his peripheral vision as he flew over the pass. He, too, recognized what the king was plotting, eyes widening in horror.

(Saphira!) he cried, panic drenching his voice. Still, to Murtagh's shock, he didn't deviate from the course and kept flying forward.

(What are you waiting for? If we don't do something-) Murtagh began, worry trying and failing to morph into anger. Fear for his brother was overwhelming and couldn't be easily overcome by something like anger. What Eragon faced now was worse than death. He had to do something.

(I know!) Thorn snapped, gaze not moving from the helpless blue figure in the sky but still not turning. (But you are my Rider. I know what you're planning and I don't- I can't lose you either.)

Murtagh hesitated at the very real concern and distress in his dragon's voice. Thorn was obviously torn between his love for Saphira and his love for his Rider, Murtagh.

(Thorn... I'm sorry, but... please.)

Thorn didn't turn.

(You want to save them too.) Hazel eyes worriedly assessed the situation in the sky above. The time to act was running out and soon he wouldn't be able to do anything at all.

(If we don't go now we'll be too late, Thorn, please!)

With a howl, Thorn turned sharply towards the scene of impending tragedy. Powerful wingbeats brought them closer and closer to the target, close enough to see black magic begin to pool in Galbatorix's hand. Neither the king nor the blue Rider seemed to notice their approach.

(We won't make it before he casts.) Murtagh's insides felt like lead. They were too far away to prevent the spell from being cast- had they been a few seconds earlier Murtagh could have distracted the king with some sort of offensive spell, but the soul-snatching spell was on the verge of crossing Galbatorix's lips.

They weren't too far away to prevent harm coming to Eragon or Saphira though, and that was the important thing. Murtagh wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did nothing now, even though the price was high to save Eragon's spirit.

It was worth it.

(You already knew that.) Thorn growled in reply, the dragon's obvious pain taking any sting out of the comment. (Don't pretend you didn't.)

The ruby dragon was already flying for the stretch of sky between Shruikan and Saphira. They would be there in just a few more wingbeats.

Everything seemed to slow down.

Galbatorix's hand formed the black crescent just as Thorn put himself in harm's way. The crescent hurtled forward as Murtagh raised his hand.

Any type of shield may have proven futile before, but Murtagh couldn't just let the attack come without at least trying to defend himself.

(I really am sorry, Thorn.)

"Skolir eka fra vanyali." Red magic thickly colored the air in a large globe-shape around the Rider and his dragon.

(I know, Murtagh.)

The black magic Galbatorix had cast struck the shield Murtagh had created, the most powerful one he knew how to create.

With barely a second's pause, the black crescent tore through the shield and struck.

The red Rider could feel the magic hit, opening a disturbingly bloodless wound from his right shoulder to left hip before the magic slithered inside the gash and entered his body.

It hurt. The pain was worse than anything else, the wound seeming to cut right through him. Sludge poured into his body from the wound, black magic alternating between feeling like hellfire and utter cold, creating different extremes of pain within a few seconds of each other. He couldn't tell which hurt more or what hurt the most before a new sensation washed over him.

He was being eaten alive. Red hot creatures with acid mouths swam in the toxic magic, devouring his flesh and strength.

His brain was exploding with the feeling, pain sensors working overtime and quickly being overwhelmed. He couldn't tell what was injured, which was way up, or what pain was real and what was only in his mind. His bones were being cracked and sucked dry of all marrow before being replaced inside his body, splintered and broken.

His lungs weren't working, deep breaths of air on causing icicles to grow and send needle-sharp pains through the organs.

All else was melting, his inner organs forming a useless soup of flesh as the red-hot creatures continued to tear at his strength and dissolve his body from the inside.

Murtagh didn't even realize he was flying through the air until he collided with something firm.

It hurt. His seemingly liquefied organs sloshed around, disturbing his splintered bones. The bones broke fully, all at once, and a rib went through one of his iced lungs, white-hot blood pouring in and choking him.

What was real? His body was one mass of pain, injuries in his leg being felt in his arm and bruises felt like cuts. Everything was so muddled...

As he blacked out, he could have sworn he heard someone call his name, but nothing was concrete except for the existence of pain.

Then, only the darkness existed.

Line Break

Eragon had watched in fear as the spell traveled towards him, then horror as Murtagh had appeared out of nowhere to take the hit.

The impact had torn the red Rider from his saddle straps, blasting him backwards and into Eragon. The ruby dragon had dropped as the spell impacted, only to dazedly lift a wing and glide ungracefully to the ground, where he had apparently blacked out.

As had his Rider.

Eragon stared down at the limp figure in his arms. Only the slight tremors and harsh breathing let him know his brother still lived. Besides the spell just now, nothing seemed to be wrong with Murtagh- no injuries except for the bloodless cut on his chest.

Tears began to collect in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

(You monster!) Saphira cried. Eragon wasn't sure when the paralysis spell had worn off, but it must have because Saphira was flying forward, talons extended.

(You filthy, evil-) Her mental curses dissolved into wordless fury.

Not having expected Murtagh's intervention, Galbatorix didn't order Shruikan out of the way in time. Saphira's talons raked down the black dragon's face, directly over and through his eyes. She headed for Galbatorix as Shruikan roared in pain, blindly lashing out to try and force the determined female away. Saphira was forced to abort her attack on the king. Furious at being kept from her true target, she fiercely clawed Shruikan's long neck, adding longer and deeper gashes to the few already there.

"This isn't over!" Galbatorix shouted, pressed close to his dragon to present less of a target if Saphira came after him again.

Eragon barely heard him, keeping a tight grip on Murtagh's limp form to avoid dropping him as Saphira attacked again, dodging Shruikan's teeth when they came uncomfortably close to her forelegs. Growling, she began circling the larger dragon, but the black beast had adapted quickly to his blindness and tracked her movements through scent and sound.

"I'll be back. Enjoy your 'victory' while it lasts- it won't be long." Galbatorix's hand came up one last time. "Reisa, Murtagh."

Caught off guard, Eragon almost lost his grip on Murtagh as the spell tried to lift the red Rider into the air.

"Letta!" Eragon shouted, clutching tighter to his unconscious brother. "Sitja baen ono zreta."

Eragon could feel the king's magic pulling at the red Rider and poured more of his waning magic into the spell holding him down. With a muffled curse, Galbatorix ended his spell. Saphira and Eragon tensed, both expecting an attack, but to their surprise Galbatorix directed Shruikan to turn away from the younger pair. The king glared at them for a moment more, eyes lingering on Murtagh, then fled with a few powerful wingbeats.

Eragon watched as the figure retreated into the distance, unable to fully accept what had just happened, then returned his attention to Murtagh.

It didn't feel like a victory. Not like this.

(Thorn...) Saphira whined, eyes flicking to where the ruby dragon lay, unmoving.

(In a moment. They don't know what happened.) Eragon looked towards the pass. War cries continued to drift up from the mass of people and Eragon could make out the faint clang of metal on metal.

He tried his voice. It failed him.

Eragon cleared his throat and tried again, speaking around the lump that had formed.

"Atra let zvo waise honyr." Eragon murmured. He swallowed to try and clear his throat, but it didn't work. The lump was still there.

He took a tighter grip on Murtagh's body. Even unconscious, the other Rider cried out softly in pain at the extra pressure.

"Galbatorix's army," Eragon said, voice echoing in the sky, carrying to each and every ear on the ground. "-drop your weapons. Your king has fled. The Varden has won. Surrender peacefully and drop your weapons; the Varden has won."

The fighting had ceased. A few men had stopped when he had started speaking, but now no one moved except to check the sky. When only Eragon and Saphira were visible, weapons began to fall.

The clang of metal reached his ears, followed shortly by a loud cheer from the still-living members of the Varden.

They had won.

Against all odds, they had won.

Eragon didn't feel like cheering.

(Now?) Saphira asked, anxious.

(Yes. Let's go, Saphira. We can report in later.) Eragon could and would wait to see a healer until his dragon was assured her partner would be all right. His wounds pained him only a little. Besides that, Saphira had likely sensed the same thing Eragon did; no healer would be able to help Murtagh. The bloodless gash was not a broken bone or ruptured stomach or sword wound a healer was trained to treat. Even if the knowledge to treat such a strange and terrible injury existed in the Varden, so much magic was wrapped in the wound that Eragon doubted any one person had the power to affect it.

That magic was in the wound still was the most worrying part of the gash. Things like Eragon's broken leg were easy to treat because the magic had already disappeared from the injury. The magic had temporarily invaded his body, broken his leg, then disappeared, as was normal. The spell that had hurt Murtagh was still present, meaning a healer would probably need to remove the magic and undo the spell before treating the injury.

Eragon couldn't be entirely sure, since he had never come across such a spell before. Neither Brom nor Oromis had ever mentioned anything of the sort to him. In any case, a few more minutes would not matter. Even if Eragon did go the to healers straightaway for Murtagh, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to let him go.

A few minutes to reassure Saphira, then he'd find the closest healer and see if anything could be done.

Saphira dove.

Eragon held tightly to Murtagh, almost losing grip yet again before Saphira's wings unfurled and spread to halt the rapid descent. She landed awkwardly, wings folding at her sides as she moved rapidly towards the fallen dragon.

The ruby beast's chest rose and fell steadily, body miraculously only lightly scraped from both the fall and the battle.

Thorn would be just fine, as long as Murtagh recovered.

Staring down at the raggedly breathing form of his brother, Eragon wasn't so sure he would.

TBC…

A/N: Believe it or not, this chapter was 23 handwritten pages. Guess my handwriting's pretty big… I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and that not too many of you will try and track me down with sharp pointy objects…

Ancient Language Translations:

There was quite a bit of the AL in this chapter. The translations are as follows:

"Blothr osu onr." - Stop his heart

"Garjzla." - Light

"Skolir eka fra vanyali." - Shield me from magic

"Reisa, Murtagh." - Rise, Murtagh

"Letta!" - Stop

"Sitja baen ono zreta." - Literally 'stay place you are'. Take no credit except for 'are', which is an anagram of Spanish word 'estar' with the 's' swapped for a 'z'.

"Atra let zvo waise honyr." – Let my voice be heard.

Review Replies!

3.14 - I'm glad you were that attached to Krin- lots of people think I'm a big meanie authoress now for killing him off. (And we need to hang out again soon- I still have your books!) For now the battle is over- I hope you weren't disappointed that I only had Eragon and Murtagh's viewpoints, but I thought it best to stick with the two I had already established. If enough people want it, I might write sidestories or something with more of the fight.

Angie - I'm sorry about Krin. Lots of people miss him, author included. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Anonymous - I' glad you liked the last chapter and hope you enjoyed this one just as much! (I had to do something to make Galby evil, since being powerful and collecting taxes just isn't enough evil, in my opinion.) Keep bashing that Galbatorix doll!

Phoenix - Thanks! I think some people were certain that the battle was over then, but how anticlimactic would that have been? It's the Final Battle- well, at least Final Battle, Part 1. I don't think it's odd at all that you like my explanation for Galby's power growing. I thought it was only logical, plus it makes him actually evil, not just 'he's strong and he taxes us. Off with his head!'. The tension between ExM was a bit much- I like the ExM scene too. I have correct Galbatorix's dragon's name- I think I looked it up before putting it in, but maybe I didn't, or maybe the site I looked at was wrong...? Either way, I had it spelled 'Shruikan' in this chapter. (Could you imagine the look on Paolini's face if he ever read this?)

Immadance - Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it so much that you keep coming back for more, even when you dislike what happens. I try to make my stories enjoyable, but my stories tend to be angstfests until the characters reach a happy ending, this fic moreso than anything else I've written. (Hopefully, even though you probably disliked what happened in this chapter, you'll continue coming back?) Again, I'm glad you liked and thanks for reading!

hylian-dragoness - Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out- I hope it was worth the wait! Kudos to you for being able to read the whole story in one afternoon! I know people who it would take a week to catch up to where the story is now. I do my best to write a good story- I'm happy you like it so far!

Sophia - I'm glad you liked the story so much! I updated as quickly as I could- did you like this chapter as well?

Fitzwillam - I'm glad you like the dreams. At first they were just to keep up the pattern of the first two chapters, but now they have their own significance. I couldn't have picked a better title than 'In Dreams', even now that it's grown into a multi-parter instead of the planned oneshot. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!


	36. Choice

**BLANKET WARNINGS**: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

A/N: Sorry about the wait! The next chapter is here, although not beta'd as of yet. If you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out! Note that I may be changing parts of the chapter if it's not up to snuff. I just didn't want to make you guys wait any longer.

Thanks to Evanescent Silence, who helped me with this chapter!

In Dreams XIV

Eragon sat silently next to Murtagh's bed in the Varden's makeshift hospital. The cut on his forehead had been washed and his ribs set and bandaged, as well as his burn, at Nasuada's insistence. His right forearm had needed to be stitched as well as the gash on his thigh. His broken leg had been set and healed, but as other casualties had arrived, some in far more critical conditions, the rest of Eragon's wounds were left to heal naturally.

The leader of the Varden hadn't come out unscathed, Eragon had dully noted. A cut on her face had been healed too quickly, leaving her with a scar from the corner of her mouth to her hairline, a fingernail's width separating her eye from the scar. Three fingers from her right hand had been cut off - pinky, ring, and middle - and the blue Rider had noticed her limp as she walked away to makes sure the teams of searchers - those least injured - were combing the battlefield thoroughly for the wounded.

The makeshift hospital Eragon was in had quickly been filled. At least one hundred men lay on 'beds' of blankets, a healer among them to monitor their condition. The smell of bandages, blood, and death was thick in the air.

Eragon could hear other hospital tents being set up, and the moans of those slowly bleeding to death from battle wounds.

Talc had been brought in shortly after Murtagh, Eldan supporting him. The blonde's leg had been broken and his chest and head were in need of bandages. Eldan had fared little better - one of the man's eyes was gone, his wrist broken, but other than that had only scratches too small to require a bandage. Eldan hadn't moved since he had brought Talc in, his usual exuberance gone.

Eragon's magic was slowly coming back after he had expended most of it to keep Murtagh with him through Galbatorix's summoning spell and then to try and heal his brother. The blue Rider didn't have enough magic to be of any help, and if he had enough he may have felt guilty for just sitting by Murtagh's bedside and watching the unsteady rise and fall of his brother's chest.

The red Rider's only wound was from the spell Galbatorix had cast. His ribs were a bit bruised from crashing into Eragon, but they would heal quickly enough on their own. Eragon had tried to heal his brother, using the very dregs of his power, but the miniscule amount of magic he had been able to use had not affected the spelled injury at all. It had been awful, summoning up what magic he could without killing himself and realizing it had no effect. Eragon had taken Murtagh to the Varden's healers next, and his horror had only deepened when the healers' magic had no effect either.

It was after they had failed that one of the healers made the most troubling discovery.

The spell was feeding off of Murtagh's magic and growing in strength. The longer it took them to remove the spell, the more power it would take. The spell was already beyond Eragon's level to handle and the soul-stealing spell was totally unknown. The only option for removal would be some sort of ritual, but with no background on the spell there was no base to work from; an entirely new ritual would need to be created.

The time to create something so complex... it wasn't time they had. Riders did have lots of magic, more so than normal mages, but even a Rider had a finite supply. Eventually, Murtagh's magic would run out.

Eragon felt like shifting so he could hug his knees to his chest, but he didn't have the will to move.

Brom's words of warning floated through his mind.

'"To run out of magic means to die. You can use it until all you have left is a tiny spark, since a spark can be fanned to an inferno. You will be exhausted, but you will live."'

Eragon had worn himself down to that single spark, but with Galbatorix's spell consuming Murtagh's magic, the other Rider would die.

The madman's spell had even consumed the magic he and the healers had poured into Murtagh. Unless they completely overpowered the spell, removing it wasn't an option. If they tried to remove just pieces of it at a time, the spell would only swell with the magic trying to destroy it.

No one had that kind of power.

All Eragon could do was sit by Murtagh's bedside and berate himself for putting the other Rider there. Eragon had never felt more useless and helpless in his life.

If he had been a bit faster, a bit stronger, a bit... more, maybe Murtagh wouldn't have gotten hurt. Maybe Krin wouldn't have died.

Something in his chest constricted at the memory of the teenager. The memory of Krin's death was still raw and grief over the loss of his 'little brother' coupled with worry for Murtagh formed an aching hollowness in his chest, as though his heart had been replaced by a void. Little seemed to matter anymore.

Eragon's eyes flicked to where Eldan kept vigil by Talc's bed. The brown-haired man held his partner's hand quietly, but his knuckles were white. Every so often Eldan would run his fingers through Talc's hair, mindful of the bandage encircling his husband's head.

The gestures seemed to reassure Eldan. A wave of longing swept through Eragon, welling up beside the hollowness in his chest.

His gaze moved to Murtagh's hand.

The one closest to him lay limp, palm-up and pale against the faded grey blanket that made up the red Rider's 'bed'.

With skin paler than milk and the unnatural stillness of those knocked unconscious, it was as if Murtagh was just a corpse. Only the ragged yet eerily quiet breathing indicated that the man still lived. Keeping his eyes on that movement was Eragon's only comfort.

If only he could reach out and take his brother's hand, but something made him hesitate.

'"You're no longer my cousin."'

Roran hadn't spoken to him since that day.

Another image, this of betrayed hazel eyes, flashed through his mind.

He had been so thoughtless that day, so cruel to Murtagh, but Murtagh had still protected him at great personal cost. There had been a moment just before the battle when the red Rider had looked up at him so openly. Murtagh, who had given up his cloak simply so Eragon wouldn't be cold.

Murtagh, to who he owed so much.

Roran, who had abandoned him as soon as he found out that Eragon wasn't 'normal'.

Eragon chuckled hollowly.

He'd made a mess of everything, hadn't he? Being afraid to admit how he really felt had done nothing except cause all these problems.

It had seemed like such a good idea - kiss Murtagh, be cured of his abnormality, preserve his ties to Roran and his brother. It had backfired so terribly. Maybe if he had just been honest with everyone - himself included - maybe he wouldn't be sitting here now, watching Murtagh fade away under the power of Galbatorix's spell.

It was too late to go back and fix everything, but maybe when they found the means to heal the other Rider everything would be all right. After they found the cure and he and Murtagh went after Galbatorix together, maybe he could tell Murtagh what he hadn't been able to before. Maybe everything would turn out okay.

He couldn't keep hesitating, wondering what everyone else would think. He couldn't just pretend anymore, not when he had admitted to himself what Murtagh meant to him. He couldn't keep making himself miserable to make others happy.

He couldn't hesitate anymore.

Not even for Roran.

If Roran couldn't accept him as he was, then so be it. He would always consider Roran a brother, even if his cousin could never see him the same way.

Slowly, a small part of himself still shocked at his daring, Eragon reached out a hand, reaching for Murtagh's. Just before he made contact, a voice calling his name startled him and he retracted his hand as though he had been reaching for a raging fire.

Arya stood at the hospital's entrance - a flap of the tent that was left loose. Her green eyes were apologetic as she took in Eragon's almost guilty expression and his body's unconscious lean towards Murtagh.

"Eragon," she said, apologetic expression not influencing her voice in the least. "Nasuada needs to see you."

Her eyes grew mournful as they rested briefly on the red Rider, Eragon noted, taking in the rest of his friend's injuries. A bandage peeked out from her left sleeve and her leg was bandaged from knee up. Her neck had a few white strips of cloth wrapped around it and the area around her right eye was bruised. Even so, she seemed in better condition than some of the other Varden members he had seen.

"Is it urgent?" he asked, voice uninflected. He didn't want to leave, but couldn't refuse if Nasuada truly needed him. Even if all he could do was wait and watch, this was where he belonged.

"I'm afraid so." Arya told him gently.

Eragon turned back to Murtagh, words sticking in his throat, caught in a lump that seemed to have formed.

The elf could sense his reluctance, and the cause.

"I'll watch him while you're gone." she offered. "But you have to go."

"I know." Eragon stood, eyes still focused on his fellow Rider's still form. He forced himself to turn away, meeting Arya's green eyes. "Thanks."

"It's no trouble." Arya replied, smiling reassuringly. "We'll find a way to cure him, Eragon."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked tonelessly. Nothing was worse than false hope; even as he hoped there was a way, one that they would find soon, if there was no possible way to save Murtagh he'd rather know than be allowed to hope.

"Of course." Arya's immediate reply helped reassure Eragon more than her smile had. He managed a weak grin in return before moving past the elf towards the tent flap.

He could hear her move to the spot he had just vacated as the flap of cloth fell shut behind him.

LINE BREAK

It hadn't taken Eragon long to find Nasuada's base of operations. He had been inside the first hospital since it had been put up and hadn't properly seen the camp yet.

Two other hospital tents had already been set up next to the tent he had just left; a fourth hospital was being set up as he watched. Across the large field was another, much smaller tent that various Varden members were near constantly entering and exiting. From what he could remember of flying here after the battle and brief visit with Thorn, the camp was on the Alagaesian side of the Tudosten Pass - it was the largest area available, since getting to the Surdan side would mean going through the wall of rocks used to block off the pass and make the ambush possible.

Between the hospitals and Nasuada's tent was just a large, grassy plain. Pits were being dug for fires later on. Other men were presumably gathering wood or retrieving the supplies for the party that would no doubt take place in honor of their victory.

Even those soldiers who had been their enemies a few hours ago were assisting with the merrymaking. Galbatorix had been the embodiment of fear for them as well - only those who had lost friends or family seemed to hold any grudge against the Varden, but the men who seemed angry were few and far between from what Eragon could see. A small group of red and black clad soldiers sat by the small copse of trees on the edge of camp.

No one was worried about them running. Even if they did, where to? What could they do?

Eragon made his way to Nasuada's tent, shoving the questions out of his mind.

To his surprise, when he opened the tent flap, he found the Varden's leader alone. She sat on the grassy ground, papers and plans spread out before her. A single candle helped the fading sun light the tent, casting a flickering glow on her dark-skinned face and emphasizing her scar. She had been studying a map, but at the sound of someone entering the tent she looked up.

Upon recognizing Eragon, she motioned for him to sit across from her. He followed her silent direction, sitting cross-legged on the ground just inside the circle of candlelight.

"Arya told me you wanted to see me." he said as he settled himself. Nasuada nodded in reply before she began to speak.

"Thorn woke up a while ago - he's already with Saphira in their own field. We saw them fly over a short time ago. I thought you'd like to know."

Eragon nodded his thanks, though he could sense this wasn't the reason she had called him. Even so, he was grateful for the information. Saphira had flown to the large field after checking that the ruby dragon was okay. After leaving Eragon and Murtagh, she had flown back to Thorn to wait for him to wake up. Eragon had made a brief preliminary report to Nasuada earlier where he explained what had happened to Murtagh.

Nasuada took a deep breath before continuing, seeming to hesitate. Her unease sent alarms ringing through Eragon's head. The blue Rider was suddenly very sure he didn't want to be there at that moment, though he didn't know what was causing the woman to hesitate.

"Has Murtagh shown any change in condition?" she asked carefully. Eragon shook his head slowly, looking down.

He heard her sigh.

"I was afraid of that." she muttered, mostly to herself but Eragon's ears caught the whispered phrase. Before he could ask her what she meant, she continued on. "Do you know which direction Galbatorix went? Any clue where he might have gone?"

"Northwest. I don't know where he went." the blue Rider replied, confused by the random change of topic.

Nasuada seemed to have expected his response, filing the direction away in her mind as she turned back to her map.

"Our first priority is to find and kill Galbatorix." she said, finding and marking the Pass with her finger. "We'll start the search tomorrow - you'll be by yourself, you can cover more ground if it's just you and Sap-"

"What about Murtagh?" Eragon interrupted, finding his voice through the shock. A cold feeling settled into his stomach, churning it. Murtagh was dying, he couldn't just leave! He had thought they would wait to find the former king until after the red Rider was restored to health - surely they wouldn't just abandon Murtagh? Eragon knew his brother had been a great help to the ground forces, and had Murtagh and Thorn still been under Galbatorix's control the Varden would have lost.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. To his shock and growing horror, she looked away as if ashamed. The coldness in his stomach spread to encompass his entire body in that second, heart shuddering as he waited for her to say anything that wouldn't confirm the dark suspicions growing in his mind.

"The healers have confirmed that the spell is feeding off of his magic. There's nothing we can do. No one in the Varden is strong enough to lift the spell. Not even you."

She sounded resigned. He stared at her dumbly, numb and silent.

"If we wait to follow Galbatorix we'll lose whatever trail he may have left behind. If he escapes, he'll just become stronger and stronger and then return to wipe us out. We need to strike while he's alone and friendless."

Nasuada's attention was deliberately on the map, eyes carefully focused away from Eragon.

"What about Murtagh?" he asked again, voice hollow and weak. The answer was one he knew he didn't want to hear, but the question needed to be asked.

"He'll be buried as a hero. His name will be remembered well, as one of the heroes of the Varden who helped us defeat Galbatorix."

"Murtagh's not dead yet." Eragon's voice became heated, anger stirring at Nasuada's way of referring to Murtagh, as if the red Rider was already dead instead of lying in a hospital bed, a curse slowly consuming him. "We can still-"

"It's impossible. The only way to help Murtagh would be to overpower the spell, but I already told you no one has enough power." Nasuada's voice was firm, though she still refused to meet Eragon's eyes.

"We could at least try, instead of abandoning him as if-" Nasuada cut him off.

"You swore loyalty to me."

Eragon's mouth snapped shut at her cold words. He had considered the woman more his friend than his boss - he had never thought she'd do something as cruel as order him away from the deathbed of someone he loved.

Nasuada looked up from the map then, face betraying what her tone had not - sadness, sympathy, but she was resolute.

"The Varden needs you. As long as Galbatorix is out there, we haven't fully won. He'll return and we're no match for a Dragon Rider without one of our own. With you, the victory is ours. Without you, we'll be destroyed."

Eragon could only nod slowly, biting his tongue to keep from saying the first three things that sprang to mind.

"Is that all, Lady Nasuada?" he asked once he was sure he wouldn't snap at her. As it was, his tone was cold and distant, formal as he had never bothered to be with her before in private.

"Eragon-" Nasuada sounded truly regretful, but then she cut herself off. The look in her eyes hardened with the strength of her conviction that her decision was what was best for the Varden. "Yes, Rider, that is all. Report tomorrow at dawn."

Her speech was as impersonal as his, leader to subordinate instead of friend to friend. Her eyes, however, showed her hurt, but Eragon couldn't find it within himself to be sympathetic. He nodded once, respectfully, then stood. He brushed off his pants out of habit, then turned towards the tent flap.

"Era- Rider," Nasuada said, causing him to pause. He didn't turn. "- there will be a festival tonight to celebrate the victory, though..."

She hesitated, then her voice slipped back to a friendlier, more sympathetic tone.

"-I'll understand if you don't show."

Not trusting himself to speak, once again Eragon nodded. He left, heading back to the hospital.

If he truly had to leave at dawn tomorrow, he would spend as much time with his dying brother as he could. The very thought made his chest tighten and eyes water. Nothing changed the simple fact that the Varden was abandoning Murtagh, letting the red Rider die without really trying to save him.

Sometimes, Eragon thought as he headed over the field, the world really was too cruel.

LINE BREAK

_He was flying without wings, a blurred but familiar landscape far below._

_Light emanated from his body in all directions, illuminating the impossibly tall mountains all around him._

_He dove._

_The cave inside the tallest mountain called to him, called to the light he brought._

_He was suddenly surrounded by rock, the stone in the middle of the cavern giving off that same comforting yet eerie glow._

_Silver shone in the darkness as a dragon stepped from the shadows into the light._

_It bowed._

_(Welcome) it said, voice echoing and seeming to fill every part in his mind. The voice was deep and masculine, high and feminine, everything and nothing, like the echo of a thousand voices._

_He frowned - he could have sworn that the dragon had said more, had said something important-_

_But the cavern, stone, and dragon had already faded into darkness._

Eragon sat up suddenly, black cloak that he had covered himself with pooling in his lap. He was breathing heavily and fully awake with the strength of his realization.

He had thought earlier how similar these 'dragon dreams' were to the dreams he had had of Arya when the princess had needed to be rescued. It wasn't just that they were similar, but that they were the same. Somewhere, the dragon and that cave actually existed. The dreams weren't just products of his mind, but messages.

As to why he was having the dreams now...

The answer hit him like dragonfire.

'"Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls."'

All it took was one look to his right to see how insufficient his power was.

Eragon's eyes took in, yet again, his brother's face. Murtagh hadn't woken up yet, hadn't even shown a sign of stirring.

The mountain had to be the 'Rock' Solembum had spoken of, or the stone inside the cavern. Perhaps the glowing stone itself was the Vault of Souls, or perhaps it was the dragon, but he had to find that place and he had to take Murtagh with him.

That dream, that place, the power there could be the key to removing the terrible spell Galbatorix had cast.

All he had to do was find it.

An exhilarated smile stretched across his face before he recalled Nasuada's determination that the first priority would be locating and killing Galbatorix. He doubted she'd let him run off to find the cavern, especially if he had to explain he had seen it in a dream.

His hand clenched part of the cloak - he had made a brief detour in his return to the hospital in order to fetch it. The night was getting chilly. He had sat at Murtagh's side for nearly an hour, listening to the sounds of men getting ready for a festival outside the tent.

He had held Murtagh's hand for that hour, unable to stop himself after learning that the Varden would have no problems leaving Murtagh to die while sending Eragon to fight their enemy for them. Though the red Rider couldn't respond, holding his brother's hand had been comforting for Eragon.

Murtagh's hand had been warm, not unnaturally cold as he had feared because of the man's unusual paleness. Eragon had been able to pretend that his brother's fingers, though slack, were folded around his own hand willingly.

No one had seemed to notice their joined hands, which was a bit of a guilty relief for Eragon. Just because he had accepted who he was now didn't mean he was anywhere near ready to shout it from the battlements of a castle. He had come a long way to just allow himself to be who he was.

After that hour, he had lain down for a quick rest, exhausted by the emotions and the fight he had gone through that day. He had unhooked Ceszori from his belt, not having bothered to change beyond what was necessary to dress his wounds, laying the weapon beside himself.

Sounds of laughter and cheering reached his ears from outside the tent. He turned towards the sound, uncomprehending for a moment until more details of his meeting with Nasuada came back.

'"-there will be a festival tonight-"'

The festival must have already started, Eragon realized. He glanced back at Murtagh's unconscious face.

'"You swore loyalty to me... The Varden needs you... we're no match for a Dragon Rider without one of our own."'

Eragon knew the power of the Vault of Souls could help Murtagh; why else would Solembum have mentioned it? What other situation could he possibly need magic more than right now?

Even so...

He looked back towards the tent flap, sounds of merriment still drifting towards his ears.

The Varden needed him too. If Galbatorix returned while he was gone, all it would take was a burst of fire and the Varden would be gone. The mages would be no match all by themselves, especially if taken by surprise. Even if the evil former king was wounded he could heal himself. The ground fighters would never even touch him - Shruikan wouldn't need to land.

If he stayed, he could defend the Varden and possibly defeat Galbatorix. He was more familiar with the former king's fighting style now - as long as he stayed wary and watched for the soul-sucking spell, he had a chance.

Sacrifice Murtagh and perhaps save the Varden and Alagaesia. Trade one life to spare hundreds more and end suffering for thousands.

Or leave the Varden and perhaps save Murtagh, perhaps doom Alagaesia to decades more of Galbatorix's rule. The former king would have no trouble taking back his throne if Eragon was not with the Varden to defend it.

It should have been a simple choice. His duty was to the Varden; even if the one life he had to sacrifice belonged to the person who meant the most to him, he should choose to protect the lives and happiness of a nation rather than the life and happiness of one.

It should have been simple.

Eragon squeezed his eyes shut, one hand pressed to his head and the other to his chest. No matter what he chose, there would be suffering. Two paths had opened before him, splitting in perfectly opposite directions and no way to move forward until he chose.

Eragon pressed his hand more firmly against his chest, as if the action could stem the hurt. He had been a simple farmboy, once upon a time - he had never wanted nor expected to make these sort of choices. For a moment he hated the circumstances that had led him here, to this decision, but his anger burned out quickly.

Finding Saphira's egg had also been the best thing to happen to him. He couldn't hate her, no matter what kind of choice he faced.

Once he chose, there would be no going back. Trying to do both at once would only end in failure at both.

The loud laughter and joy of the victory could be heard, muffled only slightly by the tent.

Behind him, he could hear Murtagh's uneven breathing.

He needed to choose. Unless he decided soon, time would make the decision for him.

'"Report at dawn."'

Slowly, his muscles relaxed. He let his arms fall to his sides and opened his eyes. He had made his decision before he had even been consciously aware that he needed to choose. All that remained was to follow through.

His magic had been greatly restored by the nap and, while he wasn't at full power, there had to be something he could do to make this easier.

The Varden would survive without him for a while, especially since he wouldn't leave them unprotected.

As if in a dream, his hands fell to his belt, the belt that had once belonged to Beloth the Wise. The belt embedded with twelve diamonds.

Diamonds which could be used as focus points for a ritual, one of protection. Eragon had never been more grateful for doing research on rituals. A protection ritual was simple, less risk, yet effective.

It would do.

Smiling ruefully, he took off the belt and turned it over in his hands. His fingers traced the gems hidden behind the extra strip of leather before wandering to the cord and pulling it aside to reveal the precious stones.

They gleamed faintly in the light that filtered in from outside, a dull gleam as they were currently empty of magic. The belt had been a gift from his second mentor, Oromis, a priceless treasure of the elves and an heirloom for the Riders.

Eragon made a mental note to apologize later as he reached for Ceszori.

LINE BREAK

Eragon crept back to the hospital, exhausted and dirty. Dirty clung to his clothes and sweat collected on his brow, but it was worth it.

He had just visited with the dragons - Thorn was still awake, which Eragon was grateful for. The red dragon didn't seem to be suffering Murtagh's pain which would aid them in the long run.

Saphira had sensed his coming but not his intentions. It hadn't taken him long to explain and neither dragon had voiced any argument. Thorn had been positively enthusiastic from the moment the words 'I may know how to help Murtagh' passed Eragon's lips. The ruby dragon had wanted to leave immediately, fly down through the party and grab Murtagh before fleeing, but there were things that needed to be taken care of first. Eragon had left, promising to return to their clearing as soon as he could.

The blue Rider had needed to sneak around the party, but no one had paid him any mind. He hadn't expected anyone to, distracted by the party, but to be sure no one noticed him he wore Murtagh's black cloak. With it on and the hood pulled up, he was almost invisible in the night. He had carried on his preparations unnoticed by any of the merrymakers or those mourning for friends and loved ones lost.

Had anyone seen his behavior, he had no doubt Nasuada would hear about it soon after.

The gems he had buried in a large triangle around the camp, the caches forming the points. Each point was an equal distance from the two others and three diamonds had been buried at each site - he would keep the other three in case of emergencies.

Provisions had been laughably easy to obtain. He had simply walked into the festival proper and begun helping himself to the platters of bread and cheeses laid out on the fallen trees that served as tables. He had quickly amassed enough food for a week before slipping out with no one noting his presence.

His bag had been left with the rest of the Varden's things, but a few minutes of digging had provided him his bag and an easy way to carry the food. He had quickly packed and taken the bag to the dragons. He was fortunate in that the Varden had no yet moved the dragons' saddles elsewhere - he had set them up for flight, tying his pack onto Thorn. He had remained with the dragons for some time, composing a letter.

The ruby dragon had been restless, impatient to leave. He constantly glanced towards the sky, waiting for the moon to pass over the sky and listening intently for the moment the noise level from the party dropped. The only thing that had kept him relatively calm was Saphira's presence and her constant reassurances that Murtagh would be fine once the silver dragon was found; she had that much faith in her Rider.

The faith was a bit daunting. Eragon worried about disappointing his dragon, not living up to her belief in him, but that worry paled in comparison to worry about what he'd do if he couldn't find the silver dragon in time, or just simply couldn't find the mysterious creature.

At last, he was ready. The rest of the Varden was asleep and dawn only a few hours away.

It was time.

He circled around the edge of camp again, not wanting to walk through the tents and sleeping bodies in case he woke someone. He had just made it back to the medical tent with one hand on the flap when the sound of hesitant footsteps on the grass gave him pause.

Eragon turned towards the sound, dropping the hospital door. It feel noiselessly back to its normal position as he stared at the man who had approached him.

"Roran." he said, voice quiet in an attempt to prevent anyone from waking. "What are you doing here?"

Eragon figured that some of the people from New Carvahall would have been injured, but he hadn't seen anyone he recognized from that group among the men in the first hospital. Roran had no reason to be here, unless...

The farmer turned town leader looked uncomfortable, hands clasped in front of his body and looking down at the ground. Roran's right arm was bandaged from wrist to upper arm, left shoulder thickly bandaged and more bandages circling his neck. His lower lip was split and a few bruises were visible on his skin.

Eragon's suspicions for his cousin's presence were confirmed when Roran spoke.

"Can we talk?" he asked, voice subdued.

Eragon hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Roran had likely been the indirect cause of the attack on the blue Rider a few weeks ago, but Roran was still like a brother to him. Eragon's feelings were mixed. Roran hadn't accepted him as he had been, confused and torn, and was even less likely to accept him now that Eragon was prepared to be himself without trying to hide how he felt.

Roran, taking Eragon's silence as agreement instead of indecision, continued.

"I've been thinking a lot lately... ever since..." Roran trailed off. Eragon's mind briefly cast back to the day he had been attacked, seeing Roran's surprised expression for a split second through the crowd. He stayed quiet, letting Roran continue.

"I heard what happened to... him." The farmer's voice was carefully controlled, but some anger still leaked through on the last word.

"You mean Murtagh." Eragon said neutrally, but his voice was firm. Roran nodded quickly, more in acknowledgement that Eragon was speaking than acknowledging what the Rider was saying.

"Right, right. Maybe I was a little... quick to say that you were no longer family."

Eragon was sure his ears were fooling him. He felt rooted to the spot, eyes wide and jaw slack.

"I was just shocked, you understand." Roran said defensively. "I was looking for you and found you in the arms of a man. Kissing no less!"

The farmer was glaring - apparently the mere memory was still enough to make him angry.

The Rider could feel the first stirring of anger simmer inside of him and he opened his mouth to reply.

Roran sighed, running a hand through his hair. Eragon bit his tongue, stopping his angry retort.

"I didn't come here to get angry." Roran said. It wasn't an apology, but Eragon decided it would do.

"Just... maybe I was a bit hasty. We can pretend it never happened." His cousin finally looked up, a strained smile on his face and tone that of a man believing himself to be perfectly reasonable. "Once Galbatorix is dead you can come to New Carvahall. Some Surdian people have moved into town - there are at least ten women about your age I could introduce you to."

Eragon shook his head. It had been too good to be true. Of course Roran wouldn't have had a sudden change of heart regarding a person who was 'different'.

"I know you probably don't want to rely on me to find you a wife, but there are plenty of nice girls in New Carvahall. I'm sure you'll find som-"

"I already have someone." Eragon replied, hand unconsciously gripping the edge of the black cloak he wore. Roran's eyes caught the movement, then darted to the medical tent before moving back to Eragon.

"That cloak... its his, isn't it?" The farmer's voice was carefully patient, as if a parent dealing with a small child. "He's as good as dead, Eragon."

Roran's voice tried and utterly failed to be comforting and the words were most certainly not.

"You should mov-"

"He's not dead yet." Eragon bit out, anger surging. He took a step forward without realizing it, glaring as fiercely as he could at his cousin. "He's still alive, so don't even suggest what you were about to say. I won't."

Roran's face twisted in anger, patience gone.

"I'm trying to give you a chance." he hissed. "He's as good as dead. Just forget about him and settle down with a girl in New Carvahall. Just stop it with that... experiment, curiosity, whatever it was, and we'll be a family again."

Again, Roran's tone suggested that his demands were reasonable, even lenient.

A familiar pang of guilt shot through Eragon as he recalled his desperate explanation to Roran when the man had walked in on the two Riders as they kissed.

'"It was an experiment. I was making sure I wasn't strange."'

"It was an experiment, right?"

Eragon hesitated. He looked at Roran's face, so impatient yet sure of the answer. As the minutes passed in silence, Roran's expression lost its assurance.

"Eragon?"

"It was supposed to be an experiment," Eragon began. "- but I was only fooling myself. He means more to me than that."

"You can't actually believe that." Roran spluttered. "Two men can't love each other! It's not possible."

"Says who?" Eragon demanded. "Who determines what I can and cannot feel? Who cares if we're both men? I don't."

He paused, taking a deep breath for courage.

"Not anymore."

The farmer seemed dumbstruck by the Rider's outburst, but quickly composed himself.

"Last chance." he warned.

Eragon turned away.

"It was good to see you tonight." he said simply. "Goodbye."

After a moment of tense silence, soft footsteps leaving him behind signaled Roran's only response.

With a sigh and a sudden feeling of loneliness, Eragon moved into the tent. He had perhaps just alienated his cousin, the boy he had known since childhood. That bridge was burned and would likely never be rebuilt. Even if it never was, Eragon thought as he moved towards Murtagh's bed, it this worked and the red Rider was restored to health, he wouldn't regret it.

In only a few short steps, he was by Murtagh's bed. Knowing that he had to get moving if he wanted to be long gone by sunrise, the blue Rider quickly knelt and picked up his unconscious brother. He slid one arm under Murtagh's knees and the other behind the red Rider's shoulder blades, careful not to rip his own stitches out.

He stood carefully, trying not to jar the other Rider too badly and being careful not to drop the blanket someone had draped over Murtagh earlier. The red Rider's head lolled back, arm hanging limply.

Once he had a firm grip, Eragon carefully reached into a pocket inside his cloak, shifting his brother's weight slowly so he wouldn't lose his grip, and withdrew the letter he had written earlier.

He let it fall over where Murtagh had been laying. It fluttered to the ground with a very final air.

Eragon adjusted his grip again, making absolutely sure he had a secure hold as he turned away.

The blue Rider walked out of the hospital, red Rider in his arms as he walked to where he had left the dragons. No one in the Varden was awake to see two large, dark shapes take flight in the predawn sky

TBC…

A/N: So, I hope you all enjoyed! Questions, comments complaints? Drop me a line via review, email, or PM!

I'll try to get the next one out quicker. We are approaching the end- we're well over halfway through! Less than ten chapters to go, I think.

Review Replies!

Pheonix : Ack, not sharp pointy objects! (hides) I'm glad you thought so highly of the battle scene - I did my best! I tried to make it unpredictable. Some people said they had figured out what was going on, but most people seemed surprised. As for killing Murtagh... (omitted to avoid spoilers) XD I hope this chapter lived up to expectations!

eryl : I know I took a while, but in my defense I did not take ten years to update! (Only two months...) I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it lived up to your expectations!

Black Sheep : I'm glad In Dreams was good enough for you to want to read so much of it at once! (Its size must be pretty daunting for someone just starting to read it...) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Immadance : It wasn't a repeat review, never fear! I'm honored that In Dreams is (or was...) your favorite fic on . As for the angst, it never ends! Kidding, but I like my angst. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the previous one!

Anonymous : Glad you liked! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one!

hylian-dragoness : I had a great time in Egypt, thanks for asking! I'm so happy you like In Dreams so much! I try my best! I hope you liked this chapter!

MyOwnXTigerEyes : I'm glad you liked the story so much to read it in a single night! Wow! That takes dedication! I hope I 'kicked ass' with this chapter and I hope I continue to do so in the chapters following!

etelcontar : I'm so glad you like the story so much! I hope the story continues to live up to your expectations! Did you like this chapter too?


	37. Selfish

**BLANKET WARNINGS**: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

A/N: Sorry about the delay. My grandfather died in November and I didn't feel like writing very much. Now it's Winter Break and I have plenty of time to write, so hopefully you'll be seeing another chapter from me before January 5th.

In Dreams XIV, Part B

A figure strode to the first hospital tent, dawn light barely illuminating her. Few other members of the Varden were awake, but those that were nodded respectfully their leader.

She absently inclined her head in response, all thoughts concentrated on the task at hand.

In an hour, she would meet her scouts and send them in search of the Varden's greatest enemy. In one hour, she would need to finalize the search routes for her scouts and give them enough provisions to last them for a week. In one hour, she would have to put into motion one of the most difficult decisions she had needed to make this far as a leader and a friend.

At the moment, she needed to find her strongest warrior so Eragon could mentally and physically prepare himself for leaving Murtagh.

Nasuada hadn't seen Eragon at the party, but she hadn't truly expected to. Even a token appearance would have taken away from the quickly dwindling amount of time the blue Rider had left with his brother. It was doubtful that Murtagh would still be alive when Eragon returned from scouting - in all likelihood, last night had been the brunette's very last with the other Rider. Nasuada wasn't completely heartless, but she could not let Eragon stay at camp while the other members of the Varden went out and did their duty. No cure could be found for Murtagh's injury. That much had been obvious once the healers had taken a look - none of them even knew how to begin fixing the wound.

Eragon could save hundreds, even thousands, of lives by searching for Galbatorix. It would be too selfish of him to remain here, especially as he would be unable to do anything but sit and watch Murtagh die. He couldn't simply stay and 'be there' when Murtagh passed on.

Finally at the entrance to the makeshift hospital, she sighed, steeling herself. This was her duty, and Eragon's as well. She concentrated on the thousands of lives her order would save, not the two who would suffer for it. She could not dwell on it, or she might rethink her decision.

Leaders had to make difficult choices all the time. Even if this was the first extraordinarily difficult choice she had needed to make, it would not be the last. In the future, she would need to separate soldiers from dying loved ones. She would need to send men into battles that would be nearly impossible to win. She would need to send friends on missions that would likely cost them their life, especially if they did not find Galbatorix now.

She ducked under the tent flap, trying to be quiet so she didn't wake the slumbering soldiers trying to recuperate from yesterday's battle. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimmer light, then she glanced around.

Murtagh had been the first person brought into the tent. His bed would be the very first, and Eragon would have spent the night sitting at the red Rider's bedside, probably in the exact same position he had spent the day in-

She blinked at the empty bed that met her gaze. Where Murtagh was supposed to be laying, only the indentation of a body in the pile of blankets was visible. Next to the sickbed, where Eragon should have been asleep sitting up, there was only flattened grass.

Her eyes darted to the other beds nearby. Perhaps she had been wrong, and Murtagh was not the first person. His bed would be one of the first, but perhaps not the very first.

The second bed didn't hold the red Rider, only a tall blonde man. The third held a dark-skinned man with a shaved head. The fourth was a pale soldier with bandages encircling his head, covering both eyes. The fifth was a woman with shirt-cropped red hair. The sixth wasn't Murtagh, nor the seventh, eighth, or ninth. By the tenth bed, Nasuada felt a chill encompass her heart.

She hadn't been wrong, a cold comfort, but Murtagh was gone, and Eragon with him. A lead weight settled in her stomach.

There was only one reason why both of the Riders had disappeared. Eragon must have left and taken Murtagh with him. She had the healers on orders to keep an eye on Murtagh, to check in on him at least once every hour and to let her know immediately if anything had changed in his condition. If Murtagh had been well enough to get up and leave the hospital, she would have known about it.

With lead settling into her stomach, she moved back to the first sickbed in the hospital, just staring. A small note she hadn't noticed before winked up at her from the blankets, her name in Eragon's messy handwriting atop it.

The lead weight inside her doubled.

Shaking slightly, she knelt in the depression left by Eragon some time ago. Her hand trembled as she reached for the note, dimly noting that the bed was still warm as her fingers brushed the bedding. She had missed them by less than an hour, which explained why none of the healers had reported Murtagh missing.

She fumbled with the note, nearly dropping it once as she brought it up to read. Eragon had left, there was no denying that now, but maybe he had left for a good reason, or would be back soon. Maybe he only left for a few hours because Murtagh had died in the night and Eragon wanted to give him a proper burial. Maybe Murtagh had made a miracle recovery and the two had set out to find and kill Galbatorix. Maybe Galbatorix's spell had some sort of odd side-effect and Murtagh and Eragon were both invisible.

Nasuada calmed herself, giving herself a mental shake before opening the note which hopefully contained a proper explanation.

She unfolded it carefully and began reading.

''Lady Nasuada-'' That stung. Yesterday he would have simply addressed her by name, but she couldn't really expect him to be as friendly towards her after she had ordered him to abandon Murtagh. Even if it was her duty, and his, human hearts were not so easily convinced, especially in matters of love.

''I know I swore loyalty to you. I know I have a duty to the Varden and you ordered me to go scouting. I am sorry I've disobeyed you, but I can't regret leaving. Punish me if you must when I return.''

The word ignited a small fire of hope inside her chest. Eragon meant to return, so he hadn't completely abandoned them.

''I have not left the Varden defenseless. Before I left, I cast an illusion over the field. The illusion is anchored by gems - do not move the stones, or it will shatter. The gems are buried at the edge of camp, close to the trees. If anyone goes outside of the field, it's possible that Galbatorix will see that person. As long as the Varden remains inside the field, it will be safe. The gems are drawing power from the trees. No mage or magic-user needs to give their power to the spell.''

''Once I return with Murtagh, we will go after Galbatorix. This I swear.''

It was simply signed with his name.

Nasuada's hands clenched, crumpling the edges of the note. Mixed emotions welled up inside her- anger was dominant, but at its heels came fear, hope, and grim resignation. Part of her had expected Eragon to take Murtagh and run the moment she had given him the order. Part of her even welcomed it, even as worried as she was about the fate of her people now.

Perhaps Eragon would succeed where the healers had failed. Perhaps Eragon would be the one to find a cure, and then Eragon and Murtagh would be able to fight Galbatorix together, after some training in battle tactics when there was a partner to watch your back.

Most likely, at least Eragon would be there when Murtagh died. If nothing else, Eragon would return with Murtagh's corpse. By that time, Nasuada hoped to have Galbatorix's location so the blue Rider could take his inevitable anger out on the true target - Murtagh's murderer.

LINE BREAK

Cold. Wet. Dark.

It wasn't even the pleasant gloom of his castle, with no warm fire and none of the aura of malice he had so painstakingly cultivated.

It was a cave, a tiny box of rock in the middle of the Melian Forest.

Oh yes, Galbatorix had fallen far.

Just yesterday, he had been the king of the proudest empire in Alageasian history. His dragon had been a mindless, murderous beast, not blinded and made useless by some whelp's dragon.

A whelp who had actually been something of a challenge in battle. A brat who had lived despite facing the mighty Galbatorix on the battlefield.

Just the memory brought a snarl to his lips and an itch to his hands. He longed to wrap his hands around the young Rider's neck and squeeze until all light had left his eyes. The desire was so intense he could almost feel the thrum of life ebb and cease beneath his palms.

Victory was sweet. Revenge was sweeter still. Eragon's death would be the sweetest of all. Rider's souls were a rare treat, the purity of youth mixed with the richness of age-old power. He had squandered such souls in his youth, consuming all he could find until no more were left, and once he finally found another Rider, the brat was too far away to consume. Finding that Morzan's brat was a Rider too had not found him with another treat either - he had needed to use Murtagh to test Eragon.

Now all bets were off. Murtagh already carried the curse, so first he would devour Murtagh's spirit and then Eragon's last.

The Varden was a mere thorn in his side. The maggots could wait until after he had consumed the spirits of the two most powerful warriors of the rebellion.

The disgusting connection Eragon had with the other Rider would be his downfall. Galbatorix could sense his magic pulsing within the red Rider, calling to him and letting him track Murtagh no matter where the boy was. The magic was tugging him, pulling him eastwards and into the sky.

Who but Eragon had a dragon? Who but Eragon could fly? Murtagh would not be nearly well enough yet to fly on his own. He wouldn't have even woken from unconsciousness yet.

No doubt Eragon was right beside Murtagh, fawning over him, trying futilely to heal him, and wallowing in his own helplessness. Utter desolation would set in soon, once the brat finally figured out that nothing of this world could undo the spell Galbatorix had cast. Galbatorix himself had never cared to find a reversal spell and no one had enough power to overcome the magic.

Galbatorix smirked with contempt. The blue Rider brat was going to lose his toy. The memory he had pulled from Eragon's mind had been almost intoxicating in its power. So much confusion, dark desires, and loss. Better still would be the memory from Murtagh's mind, since elation would be followed by such utter betrayal. The dark desires would be in Murtagh's mind too, even filthier than what he had seen in Eragon's thoughts. Murtagh's perversion stretched back much further than the blue Rider's, so his mind would be even filthier and more perverse.

All Galbatorix had seen before in the red Rider's mind were memories of terror while living in Morzan's house. Letting Murtagh relive those memories again and again, especially the way his mother screamed as Morzan beat her to death, had been enough to break Murtagh. He hadn't needed to see more recent memories after letting childhood terrors replay over and over again.

Galbatorix respected the perverse and the depraved, but there were limits, especially when fools tried to justify their perversions with 'love'. Galbatorix was a man who knew himself. He enjoy depravity and had never believed in 'love'. Those that attempted to justify perverse thoughts and deeds with 'love' were lying to themselves, trying to control their inner darkness with fake emotions. As torture, forcing another man to submit was fine. It was how he had broken down several traitors he had found in his castle, working as spies. Trying to call it anything but a base desire was foolish. Pretending it meant anything was worse.

Galbatorix despised fools.

First he would kill Eragon, then destroy what was left of the Varden. The he would conquer Surda, something he had waited too long to do. The elves were next, in their forest hiding hole. The Spine was already within his control, and the Beors were next. Farthen Dur would fall with the Beors. The entire continent would be his. No one would stand against him.

It was only a matter of days, now.

"Shruikan." Galbatorix called, stalking to the mouth of the cave. At his call, the great beast lumbered forward from the trees, using scent and sound to locate his master.

The dragon's saddle had been left on the beast after the battle. Galbatorix hadn't bothered removing it. The straps that fastened the saddle to the creature had raised welts on the underbelly of the dragon from the constant fiction. The king scowled at the marks.

He touched them briefly before jumping into the saddle and strapping his legs in as best he could. The king had no notion of how to sew and had left the riding straps cut. It had been decades since he had needed to sew anything.

It didn't matter in any case. Galbatorix didn't plan to fight Eragon on dragonback once again, especially with his mount blinded. Shruikan had done well just after being blinded, but it would be impossible to keep up any level of skill for a prolonged battle. As much as it rankled him to admit it, Galbatorix couldn't afford to have his attention divided from Eragon while fighting the brat. He could not act as Shruikan's eyes.

The dragon he now rode had been his biggest advantage in any of his fights to date. Shruikan was strong and had been driven vicious by the binding ceremony Galbatorix had used when he was younger. Against Saphira and her Rider, Shruikan had been useless. His strength was matched by the younger dragon's speed and vicious attacks meant nothing to a dragon who could dodge most of the strikes. Saphira had been a rapidly moving target capable of moving in any direction, extremely difficult to hit. For each one of Shruikan's strikes that landed, Saphira landed two. Each of Shruikan's strikes did more damage than any one of Saphira's, but Saphira struck more often and had done more damage than Galbatorix would have liked to admit.

The next fight would not take place with Galbatorix riding on the back of a blinded, useless beast. On the ground, when Galbatorix could make use of his physical strength as well as his magical power, Eragon would be crushed. The blue Rider would be defeated and the backbone of the rebellion completely destroyed.

But not before everything was taken from the brat in payment for the humiliating defeat he had handed Galbatorix. Logically, Murtagh could not mean anything to Eragon, but the brat believed Murtagh did. That was all that was needed.

Eragon would only be able to mourn the loss of the one he 'loved' most before being killed and body hacked to pieces for Galbatorix to throw down on the Varden's camp.

With a feral smile, Galbatorix kicked Shruikan's sides and, to the sound of the dragon's roar, the two took off into the sky, winging east.

It didn't matter where Eragon ran, or where he tried to hide. Galbatorix could find him. Nothing could stop what had been set in motion the second Murtagh had taken the hit for Eragon.

Nothing.

LINE BREAK

Eragon's eyes shot open and immediately scanned the small clearing Thorn had found for them to camp in that night. For a moment, he swore he saw the silver dragon from his dreams sharing their clearing, but when he looked closer it was only the trees with a light dusting of snow reflecting the moonlight.

He sighed and pushed himself to a sitting position. The black cloak he had taken to using as a blanket pooled in his lap. The dreams had become more and more vivid as the group of four traveled on. Each night, the beginning of the dreams, where he flew through the sky, glowing, became shorter and shorter. Each night, the landscape below became clearer, as did the cave he eventually found himself in at the end. It was a bit unnerving when, during waking hours, he recognized the landscape below from his dreams, but recognizing an unfamiliar landscape lent credence to the dreams. The dreams were his hope, and proof that the dreams were real meant that the silver dragon also existed at the end of this path.

The silver dragon and a way to heal Murtagh were connected. They had to be. Eragon could feel it in his gut. The feeling would not leave him alone, the sensation that power lay in the cave he had seen a few nights before he left the Varden and every night since.

Guilt welled up inside of him. While he hadn't left the Varden totally helpless, their defenses were not nearly as strong as they would be if he stayed to defend them. Even now, a full three days after leaving, he wondered if he had made the right choice. If only he could have made two of himself, he lamented, divided his being into two - one to leave behind and defend the Varden, the other to save Murtagh.

Maybe Nasuada and Roran had been right. Maybe Murtagh was as good as dead, but while the red Rider lived, Eragon couldn't stand aside and do nothing. While Murtagh breathed, Eragon could not regret his choice. His need to protect the Varden was not nearly as fierce as his need to protect his brother. No matter how many times he questioned himself, that fact remained. He would choose Murtagh over the Varden no matter what.

As much as he hoped it wasn't true, even if these were Murtagh's final days, Eragon wouldn't have chosen any differently.

He wondered if that made him selfish, choosing to spend Murtagh's possibly last moments with him, then decided it didn't matter. What's done is done and he couldn't (and wouldn't) change his choice no matter the consequences or whether or not that made him selfish. He had spent far too long lying to himself to make others happy.

A ragged breath from his left interrupted his thoughts, breaking him out of the vicious circle of angry thoughts he had too-often found himself in lately - anger at himself, anger at narrow-mindedness, and anger at lies.

He looked towards the source of the sound, a thin smile spreading unintentionally over his lips.

Murtagh lay next to the blue Rider, unpeaceful rest not further disturbed by Eragon's abrupt awakening. As the group had traveled further and began to camp in the mountains, the temperatures dropped sharply, especially at night. The dragons were fine with the colder temperatures, but the same was not true of the humans. Eragon had only Murtagh's cloak to warm him, and Murtagh had only the thin blanket Eragon had taken from the Varden's hospital. The blue Rider had seen Murtagh shiver while sleeping, even with the blanket covering him while placed close to Thorn's side. Eragon had been cold too, lying on the other side of camp curled up next to Saphira with Murtagh's cloak pulled over his body.

The first night of such cold, Eragon had cursed himself for a fool for not bringing more blankets. As a child raised next to the Spine, he should've known better than to underestimate the cold temperatures a mountain could drop to, especially high up. He had spent three hours, shivering and watching Murtagh shiver, before he had quietly woken the dragons and asked them to move closer together until Murtagh and Eragon could just fit between them comfortably.

Eragon didn't worry about being crushed - neither Thorn nor Saphira rolled while asleep. He didn't quite dare embrace Murtagh, or even sleep too near, for fear of Murtagh's reaction when the other awoke. They had never really resolved the issue of their kiss and Eragon wasn't so sure he'd react favorably if he woke up lying next to someone who had betrayed him so terribly.

He lay as close as he dared, making sure he was close enough to share the cloak and for the two to share body heat. He did not do any more, did not consciously entwine his fingers with those of his brother or lean his head on Murtagh's shoulder.

Still, he could not help his unconscious movements, those made while he slept. If Murtagh awoke before Eragon, surely the red Rider would understand that?

Eragon's eyes traced Murtagh's face, worry creasing his brow as he took in his brother's paler than normal, drawn features. Even unconscious, Murtagh's body was reacting to pain Eragon couldn't even imagine. He gently lifted a hand and brushed some of Murtagh's bangs away from his eyes, then drew his hand away and lay back down.

Perhaps he moved a touch closer to Murtagh than he had previously dared.

If - when, he firmly reminded himself - Murtagh was healed, Eragon could explain. For now, he would enjoy the peace lying like this gave him, even if it was fleeting and false.

For now, he would pretend that Murtagh wasn't dying and that he wasn't on a desperate journey, lead by dreams to a silver dragon who may or may not be able to help the red Rider.

LINE BREAK

There had been nothing, just blissful nothingness, until he had floated into what had to be consciousness.

It had to be. Nothing else could possibly hurt so badly.

The tiny creatures with flaming mouths and acid saliva still devoured the rancid soup of his organs and insides. His bones were splinters, prodding any and all sensitive flesh they found. He felt bruised, bloody, broken skin stretch over his battered carcass from head to foot. Every movement was pain. Every breath turned his lungs to ice and fire. His body was the same, overall sensations of pain complemented by heat and chills. Weakness hung on every limb, tying down every muscle.

His mind was fogged, only occasional images coming clearly to the surface, though Murtagh couldn't be sure if the images were real or dreams conjured by his fevered mind.

Some images were so real; the pain of the spell was definitely not false. The freedom of flying on dragonback was a familiar comfort. The taste of mash and water in his mouth was too ordinary to be a dream.

Some images were half-fantasy, familiar things mixed with just enough unreality to be dreams. Camping out at night under the stars was real enough, but sleeping with Eragon at his side was definitely a fever dream. Flying was common enough to his senses, but flying with Eragon holding onto him had to be a fantasy. Mash wasn't unusual, but never before had Eragon fed him or coaxed him to open his mouth and eat.

Other images were fully dreams, since he knew his own limits well enough to know what he was and was not capable of in this state. Kissing Eragon possessively definitely fell into the 'was not' category at the moment.

Only during full-dreams did some of the pain go away, fading into the background. All other images had the pain crippling him, leaving him helpless in an unfamiliar forest - he saw trees in some images, it had to be a forest, yes - with only Eragon, Thorn, and Saphira nearby.

The pain was the only sure thing. The pain was constant, whether dulled by fantasy or stabbing through him viciously.

The happiness had to be an illusion. Eragon had never and would likely never sleep so close to him, but while the illusion lasted, Murtagh could pretend it was reality.

LINE BREAK

The flight the next day was quiet, as always. Eragon held tightly to Murtagh, even after tying the other Rider to him to make sure he wouldn't fall.

As extra precaution, Saphira flew low over the trees and flew slowly so as not to jostle the two on her back.

Thorn carried the supplies they still had - the food, really. Eragon used the blanket to keep Murtagh close and the cloak to wrap around the both of them so they didn't freeze while flying. For the past few days, the Riders had been switching which dragon they rode every few hours to try and avoid tiring Thorn and Saphira out.

Every day, at midday, Eragon would call a halt so they could eat. Murtagh was still unconscious, but going without eating would be devastating for the red Rider's already failing health. Eragon was particularly careful while feeding his brother, mashing food up small and only giving Murtagh bite-size scoops of mash and being sure he swallowed. Water was doled out in equally careful amounts.

Even with what care Eragon could provide, Murtagh was still getting weaker by the day. Eragon knew they were getting close - the mountains were almost impossibly high now, the smallest even higher than the tallest mountain of the Spine - but it was nerve-wracking to have to fly at such a measured pace when all Eragon wanted to do was fly at full speed.

Still, losing his grip on Murtagh, blanket-rope or no blanket-rope, would mean death for the red Rider.

(Are we getting close?) Saphira asked softly, sensing her Rider wasn't in much of a mood to talk. He hadn't been in much of a mood to talk ever since they had left. Fortunately, the two dragons understood and kept mostly to themselves. Saphira's hands were full with trying to reassure Thorn that not all was lost, but it didn't help the ruby dragon's tension any, or Eragon's.

(Yes.) Eragon's reply was simple. The beginning of the dream, the visual map leading him to the cave with the silver dragon, had been all but nonexistent the night before. When he tried, he could just feel a sense of incredible power coming from somewhere up ahead of them. The power resonated so strongly with the Rock of Kuthian (or the Vault of Souls, Eragon still hadn't decided which the glowing rock was) from his dreams he couldn't ignore it.

The sapphire dragon was silent for a moment, then spoke again.

(He'll be fine, Eragon. I'm sure of it.)

Eragon's grip tightened on his unconscious brother.

(Of course.) he replied, words hollow.

They flew on in silence. It was hours of watching the mountains pass by and grow taller and taller, the trees thin out and disappear, before the sensation of power spiked and became thick in the air. As the sensation spiked, Thorn and Saphira flew around a mountain that had been directly in their path, coming face to stone with the largest mountain Eragon had ever seen.

It towered easily above all other mountains in the area, and power radiated from it like heat from the sun. It looked exactly like the mountain Eragon had seen so often in his dreams.

(Saphira, dive. Right here. Thorn, you too. We're here.) Eragon's sense of relief was like nothing else he had ever felt. They were here. Everything would be all right now. It had to be.)

Thorn needed no telling twice and folded his wings into a short dive towards the ground at the mountain's base. Saphira floated down, mindful of the two humans on her back.

No trees grew in the area, leaving only a flat sheet of rock and scattered bits of snow for a landing pad. Both dragons landed smoothly, talons scraping a bit on the rock. Eragon clutched his brother until Saphira had stopped completely, then scrambled to untie his legs and get down.

Once he had dismounted, Murtagh carried carefully in his arms, he stood, just staring at the cave entrance.

It was smaller than he had expected. Thorn and Saphira would have to wait outside.

Thorn was already urging him forward.

(Go on, Rider.) the ruby creature said, nodding pointedly at the cave. (Standing out here does nothing, even with all the magic in the air. Get moving.)

(We'll wait right here.) Saphira said, more encouragingly. (We believe in you.)

Taking one last look at the two dragons, he nodded and turned towards the cave. With a deep breath, he began walking forward.

None noticed the eyes following their movements, or the cruel smile directed at them from high above their position on the ground.

LINE BREAK

Eragon walked down a wide tunnel that lead to what he was certain would be the heart of the mountain. As the minutes passed, an odd, predominantly purple light grew stronger and stronger, as did the sense of extreme power. It wasn't a blinding light, but more a high-intensity light dimmed by some sort of gauzy cloth and viewed at a distance.

Murtagh's breathing echoed along the walls, accompanied by the sound of Eragon's feet as they brushed against small pebbles in his path.

Eragon was just starting to wonder how long the tunnel was when it open into a gigantic stone chamber. The ceiling was easily five times as tall as Saphira and wide enough to house several dragons Glaedr's size.

In the middle of the room lay the rock, emanating the purple light and more power than Eragon had ever felt coming from any single object. The stone easily took up the entire middle of the floor, roughly the size of a young dragon about Saphira's age.

The light flickered around the stone, illuminating the entire cavern but there was a sensation of restrained might, like a dragon held back by a leash. In awe, Eragon almost relaxed his grip on his brother, but caught himself in time.

He looked around. The rock and the cave were just where he dreamed they would be. Where was the dragon?

The silver dragon had to be here too. The silver dragon could help him heal Murtagh. Eragon had no clue how to tap into the power of the glowing rock, or even if he should try. That much power could be dangerous if not used properly.

"Hello?" he called, voice echoing in the chamber. He paused, unsure how to address the dragon he hoped was there. "Dragon? Are you here?"

He paused, fear prickling at his brain. What if the dragon he had seen didn't exist? The echo died away.

"You called me here, right? Can you help me?"

He clung tighter to Murtagh.

"My... friend here is hurt. I thought..." his voice trailed off. The dreams had started before Murtagh was injured. Just because Solembum had said the whole bit about 'when your power is insufficient' didn't mean that this was what the werecat spoke of. It seemed foolish to assume that, just because something was important to him, meant that the same something was important enough for a werecat to prophecy about it.

His heart fell, then rose again with his determination.

Even if this wasn't what the prophecy had been about, he could change that. This was what he needed power for.

"Hello?" he called again, hints of anger seeping into his voice. "I need your help for my friend-"

"Is that all he is?" an oily, silky voice Eragon was painfully familiar with interrupted. "Just a 'friend'? I'm sure he'd be heartbroken to hear that."

Eragon turned to the source of the voice, backing up to the glowing stone in the middle of the chamber.

At the entrance to the cave stood the mad former king, wounds mostly healed with only scars to show that any injuries had existed, a dark smile on his face.

"Galbatorix." Eragon whispered, still in shock. "What are you doing here? How did you find us?" Even as he spoke, his knees trembled. He hadn't expected to meet anyone here. Galbatorix had been hard enough to fight when all either of the, could really use was magic, but on the ground the king would have a size advantage.

Sounds of wingbeats and dragon roars echoed down the tunnel Galbatorix stood in front of.

"I followed the fool you're carrying. You're an even bigger fool for not abandoning him, tossing him over the side of your dragon when you were high up in the air."

Anger at Galbatorix's insults temporarily overrode his desire to know exactly how the king had found them.

"He's no fool." Eragon bit out, gently lowering Murtagh so the red Rider could lean against the glowing stone. He couldn't fight while carrying someone. He was careful to avoid turning his back on the king, not wanting to present the madman an opening.

With one last look, he straightened and turned, walking away from Murtagh to stand between the king and his brother.

"I'm no fool either." Controlling his trembling and proud his voice hadn't betrayed his fear, Eragon drew Ceszori. He moved into a ready stance, holding his blade with both hands and leveling it at his opponent. The two were now a few feet apart, far enough away from Murtagh so that the unconscious Rider would not be tripped over.

Galbatorix merely smirked, blade already in hand.

Green steel flashed in the purple light as Galbatorix raised his sword.

"You won't die easily, Rider. I know that much." Galbatorix said. "In fact, I'm counting on it. Weaklings are no fun to kill, and it means so much more to the people when a hero dies."

With that, the king swung.

TBC...

A/N: I know. Evil cliffie. I will do my best to update before January 5th (when break ends) but I make no promises.

Review Replies!

Phoenix - I'm glad you like the fic so much! Sorry it took me forever to update, but I hope this was worth waiting for. A lot of people really liked the Roran vs. Eragon conversation last chapter – it made me happy, since I've always wanted to write a scene like that. (As for them making up… we shall see. Even I don't fully know at this point, but the fic isn't over until it's over.) **eyes the knife Phoenix was sharpening** Eh-heh-heh… as for Murtagh living… the fic isn't over until it's over, so stay with me until then and all questions will be answered. Remember: author likes happy endings!

() – I believe there was some fluff in this chapter. I'll try to get the chapters out quicker, but I can only do so much. As I said in my AN this chapter, I'm on Winter Break and should be able to write more for at least a little while.

Anonymous – I'm glad you liked the previous chapter so much! So many people seem to despise Roran now… I'd feel sorry for him if he wasn't such a, as you put it, a 'bloody jackass'. ^_^ I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

CJS – I'm honored you think I might be better than Paolini! Wow! And you said it was your third time reading In Dreams through, and it's not even finished yet? You make me blush! I hope this chapter was worth waiting for!

hylian-dragoness – I'm glad you liked the previous chapter! I hope this chapter lived up to expectations and wasn't totally disappointing.


	38. Loss

**BLANKET WARNINGS**: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

IMPORTANT! A lot of you will probably hate me at the end of the chapter. (Do not skip to the end to figure out what I mean.) Please stick with me and the fic for a bit longer, even if you don't like the way things are headed at the moment.

This chapter was beta'd for me by the lovely sussiekitten! Additional help provided by Phoenix Soar! Any remaining mistakes are mine and I take full responsibility.

In Dreams XV

Eragon cursed the fact that he had left his three gems with the dragons, knowing the extra power would have made him feel a bit more secure even as he blocked the king's strike. He held Ceszori not fully horizontal but slanted so the blow slid down and away from his body.

Immediately the king reversed the downward slash, bringing the sword up towards Eragon's now unprotected middle. The younger Rider stepped forward, moving instantly into a roll around Galbatorix while being mindful of Ceszori. It would do no good to impale himself on his own weapon.

Eragon was instantly on his feet as the roll completed, springing automatically to bring Ceszori down on Galbatorix's head.

The king was in the process of turning and, seeing the blue metal coming down, threw his own weapon up in a block. Metal clanged and echoed in the chamber of stone as the two sprang apart, swords held at the ready as each man watched his opponent warily.

Eragon was careful to not let Galbatorix any closer to Murtagh than was necessary. The king would need only seconds to steal Murtagh's soul, seconds to destroy what Eragon was trying desperately to save. His eyes flicked to Murtagh involuntarily, then back to the king.

Galbatorix had noticed the moment of inattention and was already moving forward, holding his sword with both hands to slam the blade down and through Eragon.

With a mental curse at himself, Eragon moved one foot back to give himself better balance and brought Ceszori up to block. With one hand on the grip, he twisted the sword so the flat would lay against his palm as he moved it above his head.

Galbatorix's strike landed, the impact reverberating through Eragon's arms and nearly making his knees - already bent for balance and to try and absorb some of the impact - nearly buckled.

Galbatorix leaned forward, putting his weight behind the weapon. Eragon scowled defiantly, even as he strained to hold up the extra weight and trying to prevent the green blade from coming any closer to his head, even as the power behind the attack forced his arms down bit by painful bit.

With a snarl, Eragon shrank into himself and then shoved forward with all his might. The action knocked Galbatorix off and away, sending the king stumbling for a moment before he caught his balance. Eragon was already in motion, following through his shove with a sideways strike intended to cut through Galbatorix's stomach.

The king turned towards the strike and struck it down with his sword, expertly catching the strike with the guard of his sword and directing the strike downwards so Eragon couldn't bring the blade up underneath the block and slice through him.

Eragon had dedicated too much momentum to the motion and couldn't dodge the backhand Galbatorix knocked him with. The blue Rider stumbled backwards, sword tip scraping along the stones as he reeled from the strike.

Blood gushed from his nose, falling into his mouth as he breathed and sliding down his neck. The king was already striking again, this time with a horizontal slice.

Eragon dropped under the strike before moving forward and thrusting Ceszori straight upwards, hoping to catch Galbatorix under the chin. Galbatorix barely dodged, getting a small cut along his left cheek and on the inside of his left upper arm.

Before the king could bring his blade down, Eragon rolled backwards and stood up, wobbling only slightly.

The two fighters stood for a long moment, just breathing and studying the other for an opening.

Eragon forced himself to keep his attention on his foe, keeping his focus on Galbatorix rather than checking on Murtagh. The purple light cast eerie shadows on the king's face, especially on the burn scar that covered quite a bit of the king's scalp.

The king was quite a bit bigger than Eragon. The brunette could still feel the power behind the downward strike - he couldn't block like that too many more times. His arms or his legs would give out and that green blade would find blood.

The distant howls and roars from the dragon's fight were audible in the chamber, but only as faint echoes. He had no way of telling - aside from contacting Saphira, and neither he nor she could afford distractions at the moment - how the battle outside went.

He had been distracted by his thoughts for a moment too long. Galbatorix had lunged, bringing his sword around to cut through Eragon's neck. The blue Rider barely blocked, using the back of his free hand to steady the sword so his own weapon didn't come back to cut his head open. The blade bit into the skin just under his knuckles and he bit his lip to avoid crying out as Galbatorix struck again, using Ceszori to bounce his momentum and bring the green blade around to the other side.

Eragon dropped under the strike, moving forward to hopefully open up more cuts on Galbatorix's face, but Galbatorix had anticipated the maneuver.

"Won't work on me twice, brat!" The king brought his foot up and stomped downwards, hitting Eragon in the chest and knocking him flat. His wind gone, Eragon struggled to breathe and stand, Ceszori somehow still miraculously clenched in one hand.

The blue Rider thanked the fact that the kick had not hit him fully - the king's foot had slid down, the force dispersed by the nearly vertical angle Eragon had been at when kicked. Had the stomp fully impacted, he would likely have broken his ribs, which were already tender from their last fight.

His grip had weakened from the temporary air loss, making his next block - one against a strike aimed for his neck, again - weaker. With one twist of Galbatorix's hands, Ceszori dropped from his grip to clatter onto the ground. Eragon dove for it, but Galbatorix's hand caught him around the throat and lifted him into the air.

"You're pathetic with a sword. Who was your 'teacher'?" Galbatorix's voice dripped contempt as his grip tightened.

Eragon gasped for air, kicking his legs and clawing at the hand around his throat, but neither action affected Galbatorix. Using a tiny amount of his precious air supply, Eragon croaked:

"Brisingr."

LINE BREAK

The images were becoming clearer.

The pain was near constant, but more of the images he saw formed a complete whole, a sequence. The images had an order he could make sense of, even if the sequences didn't always make sense.

Flying on dragonback and then diving steeply made sense. Even landing at the base of a massive mountain was in the realm of possibility. Being carried by Eragon though a dark space, footsteps echoing off walls he couldn't see was odd, but possible. He wasn't sure what connection the dark tunnel - it had to be a tunnel of some sort, Murtagh decided - had to the large mountain, but it felt right and he didn't question it.

Eragon fighting Galbatorix (and just when had the king shown up?) in a gigantic stone chamber was something straight out of a nightmare. In fact, he was sure it was a nightmare, since no rock he knew of had that strange purple glow.

Even so, there was an odd sensation, almost like fear, that settled where his stomach would have been if he still had distinct internal organs. The cold feeling chilled him to his bone splinters.

The more he thought, the less sense everything made.

Too exhausted to puzzle it out, he let the images fade from mind and sank back into blackness.

LINE BREAK

Saphira growled as she twisted in midair to avoid colliding with the mountainside. Shruikan, who had been following her, heard the displacement of air and moved to follow. The larger dragon was slower, however, and he landed on the sheet of rock, talons scratching the stone.

Thorn flew up behind the blind dragon, roaring in fury as he raked down with his talons. Shruikan howled as lines of blood appeared on his wings, the delicate flesh torn.

The black dragon whipped his head around to snap at Thorn. The ruby dragon roared again, this time in pain as Shruikan's teeth found his foreleg. He tried to tug it from Shruikan's grip, but the older dragon hung on.

Saphira had flown up and around the mountain. Now she dove, screeching loudly, talons aimed for the larger dragon's tail.

Shruikan let go of Thorn as a shriek tore itself from the beast's throat. The ruby dragon used the opportunity to get away, snarling. Saphira reversed direction just as quickly, the two younger dragons trying to get away from the older so they could regroup.

(Thorn, are you all right?) Saphira asked. Thorn snorted.

(The wound's not bad. You're not injured, are you?)

(No.)

(We need some sort of plan. Even without his eyes, he can track up by scent and sound. The mountains just amplify noise and he's good enough to figure out where an echo begins from.) Thorn sounded frustrated, understandably so.

A loud cry came from behind them, but before either of them could turn, Shruikan had knocked Saphira from the sky, landing on the younger dragon's back and forcing her to the ground. Rocks scraped against her underbelly, scraping large gashes even in her thick hide.

(Saphira!) Thorn dove after the pair with a roar, angling himself so he'd knock the black dragon off of the sapphire creature.

Shruikan had gone directly to attacking his momentarily helpless prey, digging at her scales with his claws and snapping his jaws to try and find purchase. He had just found her neck with his teeth when Thorn knocked him off balance enough for Saphira to launch herself into the sky, body wobbling as she tried to regroup.

Thorn landed with a loud screech of talons on rocks, advancing towards the bigger dragon even as said dragon picked itself it. Both males snarled, Shruikan flaring his nostrils to keep track of Thorn's scent.

(Saphira, are you all right?) Thorn demanded, eyes never leaving Shruikan.

(He tore some of my scales off and bit into my neck, but I don't think he had time to do any real damage.) Saphira was woozy with pain and landed on a small cliff. (I just need a few minutes.)

(Take your time.) Thorn growled. (If you try and fight when you're not at your best, you'll end up getting hurt worse. I'll hold him off while you recover.)

At that moment, Shruikan snarled and lunged. Thorn dodged to the side, sending the larger dragon sprawling into a pile of rocks. Shruikan stood quickly, shaking his head to clear off the rock dust and pebbles.

Thorn leapt, clawing at the base of one of Shruikan's wings as his teeth scratched against Shruikan's hard scales. Again, Shruikan's head whipped around to bite the younger dragon, but Thorn dodged.

The black dragon roared and flew into the sky, Thorn following close behind.

LINE BREAK

"Brisingr."

Eragon's spell had an immediate effect.

The king dropped him, then fell to the ground himself and rolled until the flames that had surrounded his arm died. Eragon had just enough time to scramble over to Ceszori and pick it up before standing and facing his opponent, panting heavily.

Galbatorix was standing and grabbing the sword he had dropped in his haste to put out the flames when Eragon struck. He jabbed his sword forward, hoping to run his opponent through.

Galbatorix dodged, but couldn't fully escape the strike. He received another cut, this time a deep one, on the outside of his left arm. The right sported burns from elbow to wrist, smelling strongly of charred flesh.

Galbatorix jabbed. Eragon dodged, shirt but not skin caught and sliced open at his stomach. Eragon slashed backwards. The king blocked.

Eragon spun and dropped, using his momentum and weight to add force to his blade as he brought it around to hopefully cut his opponent in two. The king jabbed again, but was just a little too slow - instead of jabbing through Eragon's chest, the strike caught the younger Rider on the outside of his right arm, a shallow scratch.

Ceszori bit into Galbatorix's exposed side and lodged there, Eragon having committed his momentum to the strike before Galbatorix had struck back. Eragon kept his grip on the hilt, sliding it out of the fresh injury when Galbatorix hit his temple with the pommel of his blade.

Eragon was knocked sideways and dizzy, landing on the stone floor hard. As his scattered mind tried to collect itself and his body attempted to get him back on his feet, he could hear the shick-shick of a sword being removed from flesh and then a loud bang-clatter-clatter as the king threw something metal away.

Ceszori, he realized, mind scrabbling madly to come up with a magic phrase to call his sword back to him.

Before he could, Galbatorix was there, grabbing him once again by the neck and shoving him against the rock wall of the stone chamber. His head snapped back from the move, striking the wall with enough force to knock Eragon even dizzier.

He could feel blood run down the back of his head and his temple - no doubt the strikes had punctured some skin.

He was trying to collect his wits when the king grabbed both of his arms by the wrists and pinned them above his head.

"I could use magic to kill you right now." Galbatorix said, voice seemingly too loud in the cave. Eragon couldn't focus on the words, just struggled to free his hands. "But I won't. It's so much more satisfying to beat you without magic."

Metal scraped against stone, and suddenly his palms were nothing but pain, blood running down his arms.

Galbatorix had stabbed his sword through Eragon's hands and into the stone, pinning him to the wall.

Eragon screamed, body jerking and struggling against the weapon even though each struggle opened the wounds through his palms a little bit wider, making more blood run down his arms.

Eragon only realized his eyes were closed when a hard slap connected with his cheek.

"Pay attention, Rider." the king commanded, tone silky and cold, like a sharp dagger hidden underneath a pillow. "This won't be any fun if you don't watch."

The haze in his brain was just beginning to clear.

"What...?" he asked, dread and uncomprehension warring for dominance.

Galbatorix leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"I could rape you right now, but you'd probably just enjoy it you twisted little freak." Galbatorix's tone was smooth, almost husky, but the underlying malice was unmistakable. Eragon could feel his body tense as his brain began screaming for him to get out of there, somehow, someway, it didn't matter how, but he had to leave, to get away, had to get away NOW.

Galbatorix's voice interrupted his racing thoughts.

"And your toy isn't even awake to watch. Having you deny him to your... cousin, was it? That nearly killed him that night. How do you think he'd feel if he woke up to find someone else having his way with you?"

"Don't touch me." Eragon bit out, priding himself on the fact that his voice only wobbled a bit. He could hear his heart in his ears, his blood rushing through his body as his mind spurred him to run, run, run, even though he was pinned to the wall. His hands, had they been free, would have been shaking. As it was, his knees shook enough for the tremors to be felt throughout his body. All guilt he felt over the kissing incident with Murtagh was drowned out by fear, and all his anger was buried beneath the overwhelming fear of his helplessness and the king's threat.

Galbatorix laughed, one hand coming to stroke Eragon's cheek gently. The blue Rider whipped his head to the side and tried to bite the fingers closest to him, but the king withdrew his hand quickly.

"There are worse ways to make you suffer, at least for now. I'll start with destroying what you treasure most, then work my way up to more minor tortures." The king's hand ran briefly over Eragon's chest, the blue Rider instinctively shrinking into the wall to escape the touch. "But be assured what lies in your future before you die."

Any relief Eragon felt at the king moving away from him was quickly gone in face of where the king was headed - who the king was headed to.

Galbatorix was walking directly towards Murtagh's body, headed in an almost straight line from where Eragon was pinned to the wall. Eragon began struggling madly, not noticing that all he was managing to do was cut his hands open worse. The sword was not moving from where the king had embedded it in the rock. It didn't give so much as an inch.

When Galbatorix bent down to pick up the limp form by the front of his shirt, Eragon knew it was already too late.

"No! Damnit, stop! Leave him alone!" Eragon cried frantically, not ceasing his futile struggles and tears burned his eyes. "Don't you dare hurt him! Stop!"

Galbatorix's smile only grew wider with each desperate plea, as though Eragon begging was the sweetest music.

The king reached out and slapped the unconscious Rider, hard enough that Eragon was sure he heard Murtagh's jaw crack.

"Wake up." Galbatorix crooned, loud enough to be sure Eragon heard.

Stay asleep, Eragon mentally begged his brother. He could only imagine the pain Murtagh felt with only the first spell in place. How much more would the second hurt?

Murtagh had been unconscious for the past several days. Surely their luck wasn't bad enough to have him wake up now-

It was.

To Eragon's horror, he could see Murtagh stir in Galbatorix's grip. The red Rider's head came up weakly, staring at the figure holding him up. As soon as he recognized the king, he began to struggle, movements feeble and uncoordinated.

His hands slowly lifted to Galbatorix's, trying futilely to make Galbatorix drop him. His nails scraped lightly along the back of the king's hand, but Murtagh was too weak to even raise light scratches on the skin. His legs kicked out, but moved only a few inches at most. The struggles would cease, then return as if Murtagh were still drifting in and out of consciousness.

Eragon couldn't watch, but he couldn't look away. The sight kept his eyes rooted to the scene as Galbatorix drew back his hand and slapped the red Rider hard across the face once more.

Blood dribbled from Murtagh's mouth and his struggles intensified, seemingly fully awake now. Despite that, his struggles were still too weak to do anything other than amuse Galbatorix.

"You're awake now. Good, very good. This will be so much more fun if you can scream."

The king still spoke with a croon in his voice, the kindness in the tone making the malicious intent and the words creepier. Eragon could feel a shiver race down his spine, but he couldn't look away nor close his eyes.

"Say goodbye, Murtagh. I'm feeling generous."

Eragon's throat constricted and he almost choked on the sheer panic welling up inside him.

This couldn't be happening.

He had found the cave. He should have been able to heal Murtagh, then confess to him and hopefully pursue this... thing between them. This thing he had so foolishly denied before.

Why, why had he denied it before? Why hadn't he had the balls to fight for what he wanted?

This couldn't be happening. It wasn't.

No. There was no way.

No, no. No no no. Nononononono...

Galbatorix was walking closer, stopping mere feet away from Eragon. The blue Rider wracked his brain, but all he could find inside of it was Murtagh's name and the word 'no'. The only words of the Ancient Language that came to his desperate mind were attacks, and not even that would make Galbatorix drop Murtagh now.

"Say goodbye to your brother, Murtagh." The king used his free hand to turn Murtagh's face towards Eragon, giving the blue Rider a perfect view of Murtagh's face. Eragon could see how glazed over with pain Murtagh's hazel eyes were, how drawn his face, and how weak his brother felt right now.

Through all that pain, Murtagh managed a wry half-smile, expression thinned by pain.

"Sorry." he said, voice scratchy and hoarse from disuse over the past few days. It was the first word Eragon had heard from his brother since Murtagh had been hit by Galbatorix's spell, and now it would be the last he ever heard.

Eragon was sure his own helplessness was clear on his face, but he couldn't care less. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, he was sure, but he couldn't feel them. He was numb, just numb all over, tense in horrified anticipation of what was going to happen next. Hazel and chocolate colored eyes locked, a thousand words passing between them in the space of an instant.

An instant was all they had, and even a thousand words were not enough.

"That's not goodbye, but it will do." Galbatorix said, breaking the moment.

It seemed almost anticlimactic, but without further ado, Galbatorix spoke the second spell of the set as he reached into Murtagh's chest.

LINE BREAK

The battle in the sky had dragged on, neither Shruikan nor Thorn and Saphira able to claim a total advantage.

Shruikan had disappeared minutes ago, outstripping Thorn and disappearing into the clouds. Neither the sapphire nor the ruby dragon believed their opponent to be gone, however. Shruikan was not one to run from violence.

(I wish I knew how the fight inside is going.) Thorn's voice held more than a touch of worry and a faint growl.

(I'm sure Eragon's doing his best.) Saphira replied. Thorn growled deeper.

(Your Rider may be good, but he's up against Galbatorix and Murtagh's helpless.)

Saphira narrowed her eyes at the other dragon.

(Arguing out here won't help them.)

(I know. I'm just worried. I don't mean to take it out on you, but I can't find that beast to take it out on him.) Thorn went back to scanning the sky.

Only a slight displacement of air from Saphira's other side gave warning.

(Thorn, dive!) Saphira cried out, trusting her senses and leaping from their mountain perch. Thorn was a split second behind her.

Shruikan landed where the two had just been and instantly began advancing towards them, snarling at the foes he couldn't see.

Saphira led the attack, darting forward to gouge out more flesh from Shruikan's face with her claws as Thorn held back, watching Shruikan closer for any counters.

Shruikan roared and snapped at Saphira, more than enough excuse for Thorn to dive onto the bigger dragon's back and start removing any scales or skin he could.

Shruikan roared and reared onto his hind legs, exposing his underbelly to the female dragon in front of him. Saphira wasted no time in bringing her forelegs up to scratch through the unscaled hide.

Shruikan immediately fell forward onto the smaller dragon, instinctively trying to protect the soft skin. The black dragon thrashed, dislodging Thorn and attempting to maul the sapphire dragon with his claws. Saphira dodged, snarling.

Thorn leapt at Shruikan again, but when he hit did nothing to try and right himself. Thorn crashed into Shruikan, knocking the larger dragon from the mountainside. Both males went over the edge, but only the black dragon spread his wings to try and control his momentum.

Saphira could feel her heart go cold. Thorn had dropped like a rock over the mountainside. She leapt after the ruby dragon, diving to where he lay.

She could still hear his heartbeat, so he wasn't dead, but...

(Thorn?) she called hesitantly. (Thorn?)

She received no answer.

(Thorn? Answer me!)

Nothing.

Just silence.

Knowing Shruikan was still around but not caring, she threw back her head and roared.

LINE BREAK

"Entfernen osu orokko un begen eka sein macht."

Murtagh's eyes snapped shut as he cried out, screaming his pain. The red Rider's voice gave out and still he screamed silently, weakened body trying to struggle free from the king's grasp and failing.

Within moments it was over. Galbatorix's hand closed around something inside of the Rider and yanked.

Murtagh's body went completely limp, now an empty shell instead of a human being. The chest rose and fell, but it was a doll, and figurine. It was no longer Murtagh.

Murtagh was gone.

All that had been Murtagh was now in an angry-red, glowing sphere in Galbatorix's hand. It glowed with power, more than Krin's had when the king had taken his. It was larger too.

It didn't belong to Galbatorix. It was Murtagh's. Galbatorix had stolen it, and now Murtagh was gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

The numbness was still there. Eragon couldn't feel anything, just a void where he was certain something important had been a few minutes ago. He was empty now. There was nothing, nothing except the sight of Galbatorix throwing aside the still-living corpse. It struck the wall next to Eragon, staring at the blue Rider with unseeing hazel eyes that used to sparkle with happiness whenever their owner saw the younger brother.

Eragon stared, mouth agape.

This was a bad dream. It wasn't happening, it wasn't, it wasn't...

"No..." he tried to deny it, deny the situation, deny everything, but his throat wouldn't work. He mouthed the word, over and over again as he stared at the doll that had once been his brother.

"Do you want some?"

Eragon moved his dull gaze to the sound. Galbatorix held out the ball that should have been inside of Murtagh's chest, making Murtagh who he was instead of a breathing corpse.

"I'm kind. I'll share."

The words reverberated in Eragon's head, giving him the insane urge to laugh. This wasn't reality. He'd wake up and Murtagh would be next to him and they'd laugh about this dream together, all he had to do was wake up-

"I didn't think so."

With that, Galbatorix raised his hand to his mouth and inhaled.

In the blink of an eye, not even the faintest hint of a red glow remained.

A ghastly roar echoed down the tunnel from outside. Dimly, Eragon recognized the roar as Saphira's, letting the world know of her loss.

Thorn must have collapsed too.

Thorn was gone. Murtagh was gone.

They were gone. Neither Eragon nor Saphira had anything left but empty shells were the ones they loved should be.

Something inside of Eragon cracked - the layer of ice that had formed as soon as Galbatorix had picked up Murtagh. Nothing stood between the Rider and the pain now.

He screamed. He roared as his dragon roared, bellowing out his pain as if by letting everyone else know, the hurt would go away.

His eyes shut as he howled his denial into the cave, hearing only his voice and the echo as it came back at him again and again, magnifying the sound though his voice couldn't convey even a hint of what he felt inside. If he screamed for a hundred years, nothing could convey what he had just lost.

He had lost everything before he had ever truly had it. He had lost everything just on the verge of gaining it all.

Somewhere inside the screaming, his head began to pound. Somewhere inside the pain, his heart was shattering.

Somewhere inside his mind, a door opened.

His scream faded into sobs, body convulsing with the force. He couldn't stop crying, all physical pain paling in comparison.

Through his sobs, he could hear laughter.

Galbatorix was laughing as though the funniest joke had just been told. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

If hollowness hadn't begun to eat his pain again, Eragon would have been angry. He knew he would have been.

Dying would be easier than this. Death would be better. Galbatorix wouldn't make it quick or painless, but anything was better than this. It had to be.

'Don't give up, sweetie.' A woman's voice whispered in his mind, a kind voice filled with encouragement and bone-deep sorrow, as if she had suffered a terrible loss. 'You can't give up yet, or he'll eat your soul too.'

Eragon didn't even bother to wonder if he was crazy. Going insane would be a welcome relief, but he would have thought he'd be hallucinating hearing Murtagh's voice than the voice of a strange woman.

'You've got to be strong. Remember what I told you before I died? Use the Vault. The Vault will give you enough power to perform the spell. I could never use it, but you can!' A middle-aged man spoke in his ear, voice vaguely familiar but nothing Eragon recognized.

The man spoke nonsense any way. The Vault hadn't helped him. He didn't even know his true name, so how was he to open the Vault anyway? He hadn't planned, just acted recklessly and now he was going to die, like Murtagh had died. It didn't matter if Murtagh's body still existed and still lived, without the soul to power it...

The man and woman whispered more encouragement to Eragon as his tears subsided. He had no more tears to cry, but dry sobs still wracked his body. He felt as if he'd be sick, but he refused to let himself.

And through it all, Galbatorix was still laughing, the sound echoing off the chamber walls.

LINE BREAK

Saphira stood over Thorn's body, eyes scanning the sky and surrounding mountains. Shruikan wouldn't have left, not after one of his opponents was gone.

She snarled, growling a challenge to the older dragon wherever he was.

The flap of wings behind her caught her attention and she spun towards the sound, ducking under Shruikan's talons as he flew just over her head. She followed the older dragon's movement with her eyes, then turned to face him again and took a deep breath.

When she breathed out, flame followed. Her anger fueled the fire, the gout of flame reaching twenty feet as it hit Shruikan full in the face.

The black dragon shrieked, whipping his head from side to side to shake off the flames. As he reared, Saphira lunged and caught his neck between her teeth. Shruikan howled, trying to claw her. Even as his claws raked her sides, drawing blood, Saphira refused to let go. She bit down harder, shaking her head to work her teeth in deeper.

Shruikan roared, doubling his efforts to remove the sapphire dragon from his neck.

With a growl, Saphira locked her jaw and pulled, removing as much flesh as she could fit in her mouth.

She spat it out the second she landed, standing protectively over Thorn as Shruikan stumbled forward. Shruikan tried to growl, but couldn't even draw air.

Within moments, the black dragon fell over and landed heavily on his side.

Blood gushed from the wound on his neck, slowed, then stopped as the heart that had pumped it slowed and stopped.

Saphira stood guard for a moment longer, watching her dead foe for any movement, then slunk to stand next to Thorn and laid down. Her fierce expression vanished as she huddled close to Thorn. Her sides still bled freely, but she couldn't have cared less.

With a sorry whine, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend Thorn was only sleeping.

TBC…

A/N: (backs away from all the sharp pointy objects her readers are now brandishing) Hopefully you all… eh, enjoyed the chapter? Well, if not enjoyed, then at least believed it to be in character and are eagerly awaiting the next chapter (which is already written and just needs a bit of polishing before posting. It will be up in a week or two, I swear!) before you decide to skewer/tar and feather/ lynch/ murder me? If anyone thought something was OOC, please point it out.

Ancient Language Translations:

"Brisingr." – Fire

"Entfernen osu orokko un begen eka sein macht." - Remove his soul and give me its power

Review Replies!

… - Panic is good! Well, most of the time, though it's only amusing for those who aren't panicking. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Randomfan – I'm glad you like the fic so much! I haven't read Brisingr yet myself, and am not planning on it until I finish In Dreams. (I am planning on finishing the fic.) I actually didn't kill Talc – he's alive, just in the field hospital at the Varden. I'm sorry if something I wrote made you think otherwise, but he's still alive! ^_^ I'm flattered you think this is the best Eragon fanfic and a Merry Christmas to you too! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Daryn – All 37 chapters in a day? Wow, that takes dedication! I'm happy you like the fic so much and hope that you enjoyed this chapter!

Anonymous – 'Evil insect', huh? That's actually a good description of Galbatorix… I like it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Immadance – I'm glad you like the fic so much! (I'm honored you think I'm better than Paolini, honestly. Wow!) I'm glad I'm a writer too – I couldn't imagine being anything else! I love writing more than anything… I hope you liked this chapter!


	39. Ghost

**BLANKET WARNINGS**: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Thanks to sussiekitten, who was kind enough to read over this chapter for me! Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone, so if you notice any please be kind enough to point them out so I can correct them! (Additional help from Phoenix Soar! Thank you!)

Previously:

The man and woman whispered more encouragement to Eragon as his tears subsided. He had no more tears to cry, but dry sobs still wracked his body. He felt as if he'd be sick, but he refused to let himself.

And through it all, Galbatorix was still laughing, the sound echoing off the chamber walls.

In Dreams XV, Part B

(Say your name.)

The dragon's voice cut through the sound of the king's mad laughter. Eragon vaguely recognized the timeless, endless voice of the silver dragon from his dreams. It was probably just another delusion, just like the male and female voices he heard a moment ago. Even so, he shook his head in response.

He didn't know his name. He had been stupid, putting too much faith in a dragon he hadn't been sure existed... too quick to hope that a cure had existed, too rash to plan.

(Say your name. Speak it thrice to open the Vault and vanquish he who you consider an enemy.)

"I can't..." Eragon told the voice, shaking his head weakly. "I don't-"

(Do you not recall what you dreamt? Do you not recall my greeting?) The voice was everywhere and nowhere at once, making Eragon dizzy.

Even so, his mind cast back to the dreams that had led him here, to the place where he had lost everything. He had been glowing over a dark landscape, bringing light along with him on his path...

(Yes. Now recall my greeting. Speak your name.)

"'Welcome...'" Eragon muttered, the next words coming out as mere mumbles in his memory. He hadn't heard the words clearly back then - how could he remember them now?

Yet somehow, his tongue formed the words he couldn't consciously remember.

"'Welcome... Du Garjzla Rhliebr.'" Eragon said, voice hoarse from the screaming and crying. The glowing rock behind Galbatorix flared brightly, finally halting the king's laughter as Galbatorix turned from his latest victims to look at the source of the eerie purple glow.

'That's it baby, you can do it.' The woman was back.

'Now finish it.' The man too.

"Du Garjzla Rhliebr. My name is Du Garjzla Rhliebr." Eragon said, voice growing stronger with each word as the Vault of Souls flared brighter and brighter. When the final syllable rolled off his tongue, the Vault exploded in a wealth of purple shades, some so bright they appeared white and some beams of light so dark they were near invisible among the brighter beams.

Galbatorix roared and covered his eyes to shield against the glow, but the magic wasn't interested in him. The beams shot to the walls before traveling along the rock and slamming into Eragon's body with more speed than a flying dragon. The Rider's back arched and his body pulled taut as magic raced through him, searing him from the inside out.

His mouth was open in a silent scream, voice too hoarse to scream again. The blade pinning his hands down flew from the wall, metal shattering on the Vault without leaving a dent in the rock. The pommel remained, precious gem at the end cracked in two as it fell with a clatter to the ground. Magic raced through him, healing his palms, his head, his arm, even his older injuries like his ribs and leg. The magic forced him to his feet, then higher, pouring into and from his body in an endless cycle that made him levitate two feet above the ground.

When his eyes opened, their warm chocolate color was completely obscured by glowing purple light.

For a moment, fear crossed Galbatorix's face when he opened his eyes and saw the glowing Rider, but the expression faded quickly.

"You are a bastard, Galbatorix." Eragon hissed, voice echoed by thousands of others and reflected back by the walls of the chamber. It was as though millions of people stood inside the chamber, not two. "And you will pay for everything you have done."

Galbatorix sneered, bending down to pick up Ceszori from the ground.

"Your soul will be the best yet. With all that magic you're channeling, yours will be the richest of all. After I've consumed you, no one will ever stop me."

The intense glow around Eragon compacted, shrinking until only a hint of the glow could be seen around Eragon's skin. The sense of power hadn't diminished - if anything, it had grown more intense.

"You're wrong. Your life ends here." Eragon snarled, launching himself at the king. Galbatorix brought Ceszori around to attack, but as soon as the blade hit the purple glow around Eragon it flew backwards, ripping out of Galbatorix's hands. It fell to the ground somewhere on the other side of the chamber, out of sight and out of reach.

Eragon's tackle went uninterrupted and he landed hard on top of the king. Both men went down, Galbatorix wrestling to get away while Eragon struggled to keep his opponent pinned down.

When they stopped rolling, Galbatorix was firmly pinned to the ground just feet away from Murtagh's body, Eragon's hands wrapped around his neck.

"Strangling me won't do a thing." Galbatorix sneered. "I'll simply come back again and again, and you have no more weapons. How do you plan to defeat me, when you can't even cut me to pieces to make sure I stay dead?"

"I don't need to cut you to pieces." Eragon's voice was harsh. "A very wise man - the same one who taught me swordplay - gave me seven words of the Ancient Language before he died. Brom gave me a spell to defeat you, since he never had the power to do it alone."

Galbatorix's sneer deepened.

"Your magic is no match for mine."

"Not before." Eragon agreed, straightening one arm and beginning to concentrate magic into his palm. "But for the moment you are no match for me."

The king struggled, a glare etched onto his features as he attempted to throw the teenager off.

"You have nothing to live for now." Galbatorix hissed. "I killed the one you 'loved' most. You have nothing to gain from this."

"There are still people who have things they can lose. I'll end you before you take everything away from someone else." With that, and a deep breath, Eragon spoke the seven words Brom had passed to him before dying.

"Bevrijd orya orokko un soruko du sundavar."

His voice still echoed with the power of the Vault, and that power flared up as the magic coursed through Eragon's body into Galbatorix. Both men screamed - Eragon from the heat of the magic running through him and Galbatorix as numerous wounds opened up on his body. The magic kept on pouring through Eragon for what had to be several minutes, though the pain made it feel much longer. Eragon saw the burns along the king's right arm reappear, the cut along his cheek, all the battle wounds the man had gained during their most recent fight and then the wound through the king's chest - the one that would have killed him if not for Krin's soul.

Points of light were appearing all around the king, faster and faster as more and more wounds opened up on the man's body. Galbatorix thrashed, finally knocking Eragon away but too late to stop the spell. Weakened by the magic, Eragon rolled a few feet away before he found the strength to stop and raise his head to view the king's final moments.

The king was roaring in pain, the different colored lights almost blocking him from Eragon's view. Blood was everywhere, covering every inch of skin Eragon could see on his foe, and then the screaming cut off abruptly.

The skin shrunk in, going resin-like along the bones and throwing them into sharp relief, even beneath the king's clothes. The eyes rotted rapidly and fell into the man's skull as the nose and other cartilage disappeared into nothingness. The skin began to turn to dust, gaining a gray color and then shattering into particles, leaving only bleached bones.

It was only moments before the bones, too, turned gray-yellow and shattered into dust, leaving only the clothes and brightly colored lights that had to be the souls of Galbatorix's victims behind.

Eragon could feel the urge to sick up come over him again. There had to be hundreds of lights here, each a uniquely different shade, each representing one of the many people Galbatorix had murdered over the years.

No more.

The king was dead. Eragon had stripped the man of the souls he had used to keep himself alive and now the man was gone. He couldn't hurt anyone else.

Eragon turned his gaze to Murtagh's body. Knowing he didn't have the strength to stand, he began to crawl towards the still figure.

The orbs of light behind him slowly began to travel towards the now dull Vault of Souls. All but two, which followed the crawling Rider. One was navy blue in color and slightly smaller than the ruby orb that traveled alongside it.

From the walls, more orbs were emerging in thousands of different colors. All but three of these traveled directly towards the Vault of Souls, disappearing into the rock with a flash of purple light. The three spheres cut a path directly towards Eragon - one was bright, warm yellow, one was sky blue, and the third was an earthy brown.

Eragon hardly noticed the five souls following him as he crawled towards Murtagh's body. To him, it was all he had left of something that might have been, if only he hadn't been so stupid...

He could still feel a faint hum of foreign magic - the magic of the Vault - beneath his skin, but without the full power crashing through him and immediate promise of vengeance, he didn't have the energy to be angry with anyone or anything besides himself. With the immediate threat gone, he could mourn in peace, perhaps stay here until he died.

Galbatorix was dead. The Varden had won. Why did he have to lose something for every victory the Varden claimed? Is that what was needed in a hero?

He didn't want to be one, if that was the case.

Not anymore.

He would have cried if his eyes had any more tears left, but they were already red and raw from his earlier denials.

Wearily, he dragged his body so he could lean on the wall next to Murtagh's body. The living doll that had once been his brother was just where Galbatorix had thrown it. It lay on its back on the floor, hair brushing the wall as its eyes stared at the ceiling.

The face was expressionless, completely void of any emotion, just like the eyes. The eyes seemed to see nothing, just blank space.

Eragon collapsed against the wall, staring blankly towards the Vault. It was then he finally noticed the five spheres of color that had broken off from the rest to follow him. As he watched, dim, gray-purple outlines grew around the orbs, forming vaguely human shapes before growing more and more distinct. Within moments, five human figures stood before him in perfect detail, each with a bright point in the center of their chests the same color their orb had been.

There was a woman he didn't recognize, but something about her was familiar. She glowed softly yellow, a bright yellow light glowing from the bodice of her dress. Her hair was long, going past her shoulders, and curly. She was about average height, a bit shorter than the man next to her, but not by much. She was slender, and must have been a beauty during her life. The man next to her was more familiar, but Eragon couldn't think of who it was. His light was sky blue in color. His hair was a bit wavy, and a well-trimmed beard grew on his chin. Both were smiling warmly at him, as if proud.

It was the next three figures that shocked Eragon.

Uncle Garrow stood next to the couple, brown light glowing. Krin stood next to Garrow, navy blue light shining from his chest. As with the man-woman couple, both were smiling, though Garrow wore a softer smile and Krin was grinning.

The last, ruby-red light was Murtagh.

The red Rider's eyes were sparkling, just as they always had when he looked at Eragon. His smile was the familiar half-smile Eragon had come to cherish.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"We don't have much time, honey, but we wanted to say goodbye." It was the woman who spoke, and he recognized her voice as one of those that had encouraged him earlier. She walked forward and knelt next to him, reaching out as if to brush his hair. "You probably don't recognize me, do you?"

Hesitantly, Eragon shook his head. He wanted to talk to Murtagh most of all, but he could feel that this was important.

"But I feel like I should." he answered. The woman's smile widened at that.

"Her name is Selena. She's your mother." The man who had been standing next to the woman replied. He stared at Selena with such love in his gaze; Eragon could only figure the man to be one person.

He frowned. Morzan was his father, but if the man was Morzan, why didn't he look more like Murtagh? Ajihad had once figured out who Murtagh was just by looking at him, but the man bore no resemblance to Murtagh at all.

"Are you my... dad then?" he asked hesitantly. The man shot him a surprised look, then shook his head in exasperation.

"I should have known you wouldn't recognize me like this. Yes, Eragon, I am your father, but you knew me by another name."

For a moment, the man's appearance changed to that of an older man, one with a longer beard and slightly pointed ears.

"Brom!"

Brom's appearance immediately changed back to his younger self, this time with a scowl.

Selena laughed.

"He doesn't like appearing old." she whispered conspiratorially to Eragon before standing and walking back to Brom, who wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'd love to stay and talk with you, get to know you and let you know me since we never had that chance, but other people need to say their goodbyes too and the Vault will be closing soon."

Her eyes seemed moist, even though she was only a spirit.

Eragon glanced over towards Murtagh, but Garrow was already stepping forward.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you. It wasn't always easy, just the three of us on the farm, but we managed." Garrow said. Garrow looked over his shoulder at Murtagh, then back to Eragon. "And, even if my other son doesn't, I respect your choices. You're a fine man in your own right, my boy."

"Thank you..." Eragon whispered as Garrow turned away. Garrow nodded once before the human figure collapsed and a small, earth-colored ball began making its way back to the Vault.

Krin was next.

"I know you want to talk to Murtagh, so I'll be quick." Krin's smile was the happiest Eragon could remember seeing the teen wear. "I wanted to thank you for all you did for me when I was alive. Even now, after I died, you're still helping me." Krin took a breath, then let it out in a happy sigh. "You saved all of us from Galbatorix, and you brought me back to my parents. I can find them inside the Vault. Thank you."

Eragon just nodded, throat closed up. With one last, broad grin, Krin's spirit collapsed back into a small sphere of light and began floating back towards the Vault.

The only people left were Murtagh, Eragon, and his parents. Selena and Brom simply held on to each other as they watched Selena's sons.

Eragon glanced at the two nervously as he struggled to push himself to his feet and failing. When a familiar presence knelt next to him, his attempts ceased and he stared at the translucent face of his brother.

Without preamble, Murtagh leaned forward and pressed his lips against Eragon's. The blue Rider tried to kiss back, despite his shock, but he could feel nothing but air moving against his face.

Both drew back, Murtagh's expression resigned.

"I guess we know now what might have been." the red Rider said simply, voice a bit choked. Eragon nodded, opening his mouth to speak when his gaze darted back to Selena and Brom. Miraculously, neither adult seemed surprised.

"They already know. The dead have ways of knowing things and watching the living." Murtagh explained quietly. "They've been watching over us."

Eragon swallowed thickly. A faint idea had flickered to life inside his mind, a candle flame of hope.

"I'm sorry. That night, when you first kissed me, it wasn't... like that. I was lying to myself, trying to convince myself I didn't like you... that way." He swallowed again. "Please... come back?"

There was silence in the chamber for several seconds, and then Brom spoke.

"Impossible! I've told you before that attempting to bring back the dead will kill y-"

"But Murtagh's not dead!" Eragon protested, moving as if to stand and then falling back to the wall with a wince.

"My body hasn't died yet." Murtagh said slowly. "I never thought... Galbatorix always killed those he took the soul of, destroying the body so the soul could never return and no one would be able to figure out he was stealing the essence of other people. If my body is still alive..."

"Then you can go back." Selena said calmly. "The Vault is closing soon, but Brom and I can try to hold it open for a little while longer."

"It's too dangerous." Brom protested stubbornly, but one sharp look from Selena and he sighed, resigned. "... but it's not as foolish as resurrecting the dead."

"You don't... mind?" Eragon asked hesitantly, looking up at his parents. Selena just smiled.

"What mother doesn't want her children to be happy? I love both my children," At this, she turned a warm smile to Murtagh, who smiled hesitantly back. "-and want them to be happy. Even if it is... odd." With that, she faded into a ball of bright yellow light. Beside her, Brom nodded and faded into a sky blue sphere.

"We can only hold it open for a short time. Use what magic you have left and put Murtagh's soul back into his body." Their voices echoed together as they spoke simultaneously, their words seeming to fill the room.

Then they were gone.

Eragon looked back to Murtagh, mouth opening to speak when the other Rider cut him off.

"Don't kill yourself trying to bring me back, and if you can't then don't worry about me." Another half-smile. "I trust you, Eragon."

Murtagh's form collapsed into a small ruby sphere. With a shaking hand, Eragon reached for it and gently picked it up.

This was what made Murtagh himself. Eragon didn't know what sort of consequences even a tiny scratch or bruise on the ball he now held would have on his brother. The sphere was live in his hands, like a condensed ball of magic of incredible power. It felt as if his hand should burn, as though all the flesh to his shoulder should burn off his arm, but the heat didn't affect his skin like that - for as much heat as there was, it was a comforting sort. It was an odd contradiction Eragon didn't have time to puzzle out further.

He placed the sphere on Murtagh's body, on the center of his chest. With a deep breath, he began. Words of the Ancient Language came more easily to his brain, now that fear and shock weren't clouding it.

"Zam'niti..." he began slowly, trying to be sure he had the words right. " Zam'niti osu orokko un... raetr osa traang."

As he spoke, he pressed down gently on the ruby ball of light, willing it to sink back into Murtagh's body. He could feel his magic, and the remainder of what he had been given by the Vault, begin to flow down his arm and through his hand, magically pressing down on Murtagh's soul.

"Zam'niti osu orokko un raetr osa traang." he repeated, more force behind the words. The magic began to flow quicker, a purple and blue glow forming around his hand where he pressed down.

Slowly, too slowly, the ruby orb began to sink back into Murtagh's chest. The shell's - for it was still an empty shell, and would be until the soul was reattached - breath stuck in it's throat and it's back arched, moving to full-body trembles as Eragon pressed down with his magic. Still, the living corpse didn't scream or cry out. Had Eragon looked at its face, he would have seen only a blank expression, emotionless.

"Come on..." Eragon begged, urging the magic to go faster, stronger. He didn't know how long it would be until the Vault closed, but he could assume that his time would be up to put Murtagh back as soon as the Vault shut. He could feel it, when he looked to the recesses of his mind, and he could feel it standing open, but he had no clue how long that state of affairs would last. Even now he could sense it sliding, being held back by some force he took to be Brom and Selena.

"Come on... zam'niti osu orokko un raetr osa traang... zam'niti osu orokko un raetr osa traang!" Eragon repeated the words of the spell over and over. The spell he had used to end Galbatorix for good had taken an enormous amount of power, more than he had ever used for any spell and he began to fear he didn't have enough left for Murtagh.

'"Strange things happen around dragons, things no one can explain."' Brom's words echoed in Eragon's mind.

(Saphira!) he cried out, reaching with his mind as he struggled to restore Murtagh's soul to its rightful place.

(Eragon?) his dragon replied, voice broken. (Thorn... he just won't-)

(I'm trying to bring them back, but I need your help.) he pleaded. (I need your power.)

(If it will bring him back, it's yours.)

Sapphire magic flooded their connection, racing through Eragon before he could even process what was going on. It flowed through his arm, the glow intensifying as more magic was added to the spell.

Even as the ruby sphere began to sink faster into Murtagh's chest, it still wasn't fast enough. Eragon could feel the door that was the Vault's connection with the outside world begin to swing shut, sliding more quickly. Brom and Selena wouldn't be able to hold it open for more than a minute.

Grimacing and panting with effort, Eragon threw some of his magic towards the door in his mind. He had no time for words, just feeling. He fed magic to his mother and father, strengthening them until the two spirits began to force the door back, but even that energy boost would only last so long. He longed for the power he had stored in the three diamonds he had taken off the Belt of Beloth the Wise, but those were on Thorn and he needed to be closer to them to access what little he had stored within them. Even a little would help.

"Zam'niti osu orokko un raetr osa traang." Eragon repeated frantically, mind pulled in three directions. He had to keep the spell going, keep his connection with Saphira open, and keep the door open. He couldn't let any one of those three connections fail, no matter what. It was painful, as if it were his body being pulled apart instead of his mind.

He struggled to keep himself together, pouring as much magic as he could into the spell. The light was so bright now it had no color, just bright, bright light. He struggled to keep his arm steady as Murtagh's body shook harder and harder, magic racing through both Riders.

He shut his eyes against the beams, beginning to feel lightheaded. He had accessed so much more magic in the past hour than most magicians used in a year. He felt dizzy, sick, like death warmed over, but too much depended on this spell working.

The magic started to slow down, the flood becoming a rush and then a trickle. Fog was taking over his brain and exhaustion began to pull his every limb.

This had to work. It had to. Grimly, Eragon pushed more power into the spell, finding reserves he hadn't thought existed.

(Eragon, stop! You're going to kill yourself and I can't lose you too!) Saphira cried.

Eragon risked opening his eyes. Murtagh's body still convulsed on the stone floor, but the ruby sphere had sunk almost completely into the other's chest. His vision was getting dark at the edges from weariness and all he could see was the sliver of red still visible above Murtagh's heart.

(We're so close now, Saphira. Just a few more minutes.) he said. He could feel sweat roll down his neck and back and his breathing was becoming heavier, but his focus was on Murtagh.

Selena and Brom's strength was giving out. He could feel it. His connection with the Vault was being closed off as the door inside his mind began shutting at a rapid pace.

He couldn't shove any more power to help Brom and Selena, not when he was already low and Murtagh needed every drop.

He was going to fail.

He wanted to scream at the world, scream at how unfair everything was, but it wouldn't do anything. His power began to wane again, and this time he knew he had no reserves left. He was barely conscious as it was, everything running together as he tried to keep his connection to the Vault and Saphira open.

(Have you need of me?)

It was that voice, the silver dragon's voice. Without even being aware of it, Eragon was nodding.

"Yes! I need more time, more power, something!"

(I cannot give you time, but my power is yours to use. Take it. We have much to discuss when you wake.)

Eragon had no time to ask what the dragon meant as silver energy flooded into his body, the magic rushing through his hand as the last bit of ruby light faded back into Murtagh's body.

A door slammed shut. The Vault had closed.

As the silver energy faded and Saphira's blue magic exhausted itself, Eragon fell forward. He no longer had the strength to keep himself upright.

As his eyes shut, he wondered if he had been quick enough.

TBC…

A/N: Hopefully this chapter was a bit more hopeful than the previous one? I hope you all enjoyed! Please let me know what you think! (I hope the Vault opening wasn't too deus ex machina-y… I tried to hint at it as we got closer, but I'm not sure…)

Ancient Language Translation!

Du Garjzla Rhliebr – The Bringer of Light

Bevrijd orya orokko un soruko du sundavar - Liberate those souls and destroy the darkness.

Zam'niti osu orokko un raetr osa traang – Restore his soul and bring him back.

Review Replies!

eryl - Sorry about the whole Thorn and Murtagh thing, but hopefully this chapter gives you some hope for the coming chapters? I hope you enjoyed! (And I agree about Eragon - he is pretty Gary-Stu-ish... I tried to tone it down a bit in my fic, but in the canon he's such a Stu that it's difficult to make him less Stu-y...)

Cathcer1984 - A lot of people hated me after the previous chapter, but hopefully this one made up for it somewhat! I hope you enjoyed!

Immadance - I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

oo - I'm glad you like the fic so far! I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

Randomfan - Oh, Krin? Yeah, lots of people were mad that he died... I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Anonymous - I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, and hope you enjoyed this one just as much!


	40. Dragon

**BLANKET WARNINGS**: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. The only character I own is Talc, because I made him up while writing this. The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

A/N: Really, REALLY sorry about taking forever to update. This chapter probably isn't the best nor the most exciting, but this chapter will hopefully please many of you! ^_^ This fic is winding down, ladies and gentlemen. Only another chapter or two to go before it's completely over.

Previously:

A door slammed shut. The Vault had closed.

As the silver energy faded and Saphira's blue magic exhausted itself, Eragon fell forward. He no longer had the strength to keep himself upright.

As his eyes shut, he wondered if he had been quick enough.

In Dreams XVI

Hazel eyes opened slowly, at first not recognizing the rock ceiling illuminated by the Vault of Souls. He had only seen it as a spirit, but the memories had returned along with the essence of his being.

His physical body was exhausted and he ached all over, his chest especially. His skin felt as if someone had removed it, wrung it dry, and stretched it back over his muscles and bones; it seemed to have shrunk and was now a size too small.

His lungs ached, but it no longer hurt to breathe. The slow rise and fall of his chest no longer brought freezing fire into his body. His organs had returned to being distinct and separate. The tiny creatures with acid mouths were gone.

Though he ached and would probably be sore for days, Murtagh couldn't remember feeling so happy since before his mother had died.

His mother...

She hadn't aged a day since he had last seen her. Though he had been young when Morzan beat her to death, her face was clear in his mind.

Time was a funny thing when you had no body to mark its passage. Though he had spent only seconds with Selena - after his spirit had been freed from Galbatorix - it felt like he had spent hours talking with her.

She was proud of him. Selena had told him of her worry as she watched over him, growing up in Galbatorix's castle, and her horror of what the now dead king had done to him and Thorn. She had told of her joy when Eragon had finally lifted the binding spell, and her sorrow when Eragon had used his emotions and then denied any feelings when Roran appeared.

She had been watching over him all this time. She had watched over Eragon too, but she hadn't abandoned him even when everyone else had.

She still loved him, even though what he felt for his brother was in no way platonic. Selena still cared for him as he was, still called him her son.

He in turn had shared with her the loneliness he had felt after her death and the hope he was just beginning to feel for a better future. He shared with her how much he still missed her and how he treasured her memory.

All of this had passed between mother and son in a matter of seconds, ideas transferred as quick as thought.

Saying goodbye again had hurt, but the hurt was only an ache, not a sting. He had her blessing. She loved him and was proud of him.

That's what mattered. Even if he tried, there was no way to fully revive Selena. Her body was dead and gone, and her spirit had found peace and happiness inside the Vault. He could content himself with the memories and knowledge that she would always watch over him and take pride in who he was.

Murtagh took a deep breath, only then becoming aware of an oddly familiar, comfortable weight on his chest. He had been vaguely aware of it since waking up, but had dismissed it as just another ache. He concentrated, realizing he could feel something pressing lightly down on him, separate from the aches and pains.

When he craned his neck to find the source, all he saw was dark, slightly wavy hair. With a dry chuckle, he let his head fall back. Slowly, unable to move faster and wary of waking his brother, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around the other's shoulders.

Everything seemed like a dream after his soul and body had separated. He had gotten to see his mother, even speak with her. Eragon had tried to kiss him back.

There might be a future for them after all.

After everything that had happened in his life, it finally seemed that everything would turn out all right.

A muffled groan from his right called his attention back to the physical world. Eragon was waking up.

Murtagh didn't move. He didn't know how long he had been drifting between dreams and reality, or what exactly had changed while he had been unconscious. Something had changed, he knew, but he didn't know how or why.

Before the battle with Galbatorix and his army, Eragon had still been unsure. The other Rider had kept Murtagh's cloak, but had been unwilling at first to face him as they prepared for the battle. Just now, moments before his soul and body had been reattached (an experience Murtagh hoped to never repeat. While it hadn't hurt, exactly, it had been as though some great force was pulling him through a tube much smaller than himself.) Eragon had attempted to kiss him back.

They hadn't actually been able to make contact, Murtagh being no more than a ghost, but it seemed like Eragon was ready to accept his feelings at last.

Line Break

Eragon's eyes slowly blinked open.

He didn't want to move. He was so comfortable and warm, more content and relaxed than he had been in days. His head lay on something warm and soft but firm. A steady th-thump, th-thump sounded under his ear, the rhythm a soothing one.

Eragon relaxed into the soft surface beneath his cheek, eyes closing to let him fall back asleep when it occurred to him that there should be nothing soft, warm, or making noise inside the stone room he was in. He could recognize the Vault, glowing faintly, and the stone ceiling, so he hadn't somehow moved from the place he had passed out.

With that realization came the memories of the aftermath of his battle with Galbatorix. He had seen his mother, Brom (his father, he reminded himself, though it was difficult to remember that his one time mentor was also his father. The man had been 'Brom' to him for so long it was difficult to think of him when he thought of a father.), Uncle Garrow, Krin, and Murtagh.

He had tried to restore Murtagh's spirit, but he had passed out without finding out whether or not he had succeeded.

Even as a spiritless shell, Murtagh had been technically alive. The only way to truly tell if he had been successful would be to look into his brother's eyes.

He didn't want to look. If he looked and the spell hadn't worked, then he'd lose even the fragile illusion he had now. His breath caught as he noticed something he hadn't before; Murtagh's arm was wrapped ever so gently around his shoulders.

As a soulless doll, the red Rider hadn't been able to move.

Eragon took a deep breath, steeling himself in case he was wrong even as his heart began to pound. Slowly, afraid but hopeful, he moved one hand to the cold rock on the other side of Murtagh's body. Using that hand as support, he pushed himself to a sitting position. Murtagh's arm slid off his shoulders as he rose, allowing the blue Rider sit up and turn to look at his brother's face.

Warm brown met hazel.

For the first time in days, the happy gleam Murtagh's eyes always held was not just a memory. Almost not believing his eyes, Eragon managed to find his voice through the shock.

"Murtagh?" he croaked. The red Rider smiled his customary half smile, a little bit more drawn and tired than usual, but it was a smile.

"I'm back." Murtagh replied, voice hoarse from days of disuse. With a wince, he began pushing himself to a sitting position, leaning against the rock wall. Still in shock, Eragon only watched.

With a wry smile, the red Rider commented:

"Don't look so happy to see me."

Realizing he was just staring numbly at his brother (who as good as came back from the dead), Eragon looked down at the ground. The shock was giving way to relief and exhilaration, happiness and awe.

"I'm sorry." he muttered, voice choked with emotion. A hand gently touched his cheek, cupping it and raising Eragon's face once more.

"Don't be." Murtagh replied simply. "I'm alive and in one piece. That's more than I expected when..." The older brother shrugged, smiling that familiar half-smile that made his younger brother's heart beat just a bit faster. "Well, it's more than I expected."

Eragon stared into the red Rider's hazel eyes, an apology clear on his face.

"I was so stupid. I only really realized how stupid after Galbatorix cast that spell." The day of the battle played back in his mind, as well as the days after when all he had for company was Murtagh's seemingly lifeless body and the two dragons. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. Can you forgive me?"

Eragon watched his brother's eyes carefully, looking for any sign of emotion in their depths. Anxiety bloomed in his chest when Murtagh shook his head, hurt surprise quickly following.

Then the red Rider spoke.

"There's nothing to forgive."

Now it was Eragon's turn to shake his head violently.

"I used you." he bit out, words painful but necessary. The night they first kissed was now added to the images of the black crescent striking his brother's body, just as painful and just as raw. He could see that night as if it had just happened, could see the betrayal on Murtagh's face when he revealed what his purpose had been that night. "I told my cousin you meant nothing to me. I betrayed you. I hurt you-"

"Then you saved my life." Murtagh interrupted calmly.

"Only after you saved mine." Eragon retorted. Murtagh seemed to sigh, caressing his younger brother's cheek thoughtfully.

"Eragon, everything you're blaming yourself for is already in the past for me. I've suffered more from messes I had less a hand in creating. You won't betray me again." The red Rider paused, then quietly added. "Am I right?"

The fact that Murtagh needed to ask such a question hurt, but it was an unavoidable question given what had happened in the past and what they were on the verge of. Eragon nodded slowly, moving his gaze so he was no longer looking his brother in the eye.

"I know now that Roran will probably never accept me... as I am. I can't please everybody all the time. I have to be who I am. Those that truly care for me will accept me regardless." He blinked and shook his head. "I was stupid and scared, but that's no excuse! The way I treated you-"

"If you need to hear it, then I forgive you." Murtagh interjected. "I won't - frankly, I can't - forget that it happened, but I'm sick of dwelling on the past."

"So you're going to forgive me?" the blue Rider asked, dumbstruck. "So easily? Something like that shouldn't be so easy to forgive-"

"-and brothers shouldn't fall in love. Men shouldn't fall in love with other men. If we always listened to what 'should' be, then we wouldn't be where we are now." the red Rider said gently. "It wasn't easy at first, but nearly dying gives a person a bit more perspective. I don't want to die with any regrets and I wanted another chance with you. After I realized that, forgiveness was easy."

"But-"

"If you still feel guilty, then make it up to me." Murtagh's voice was still gentle, but underlying that was a subtle heat Eragon didn't fully recognize.

"Make it up to you?" he asked, meeting his brother's eyes again. Confusion was evident in the blue Rider's expression, but Murtagh only smiled.

"I once told you that I'd wait for you to be ready." the red Rider said quietly, meaningfully. "I meant it then and I mean it now."

The silence was thick, anticipation like electricity in the air.

The blue Rider took a deep breath, keeping eye contact with his brother.

"I think I'm ready now." he said, voice breathy. An odd sense of deja vu echoed through him. The night they had first kissed, he had said the exact same thing.

The red Rider nodded, but didn't move. He watched his younger brotherly expectantly and the younger's heart began to pound. He could feel his mouth go dry and swallowed nervously. The red Rider's message was clear - Eragon would have to show he wanted it. Slowly, heart thundering in his chest, the blue Rider began to lean forward.

He wanted it. There were no hidden motives this time, just truth and a long-awaited confession. Murtagh held perfectly still, eyes following Eragon's lips as the younger of the two drew closer. The red Rider's expression was gentle, but at the same time faintly amused by how slowly the younger Rider drew nearer and restrained heat and anticipation.

When only centimeters remained between their lips, Murtagh closed the gap. Surprised, Eragon's eyes widened. Slowly, he slid them shut and gave himself over to the kiss and the glorious sensation of his brother's lips against his own.

Their second kiss was much like the first, but at the same time completely different. It was better, somehow, not tainted by guilt or confusion. The older of the two quickly took control, moving away from the wall and wrapping his arms around the younger. One arm went around Eragon's waist while the other hand moved up to tangle in thick brown hair. Eragon let himself be led, tentatively opening his mouth when the other Rider's tongue brushed against his lips.

His arms came up behind Murtagh's back, embracing his brother in return. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Murtagh relaxed against the wall once more, Eragon shifting his arms so that they wouldn't be crushed between his brother's weight and the stone. He leaned against the red Rider's chest, warm contentment sweeping through him as he relaxed in Murtagh's hold.

"How long was I out?" the older of the pair asked softly.

"A few days." Eragon replied. He sensed, rather than saw, Murtagh nod in acknowledgement. Feeling safe and relaxed for the first time in days, the blue Rider was letting his eyes shut when a voice broke into his thoughts.

(Eragon? Are you awake?)

He smiled wearily at the barely contained excitement in his dragon's voice.

(I take it Thorn has woken up?) he asked. A wave of joy answered him long before Saphira's mind voice did.

(It worked Eragon, it worked!) He could feel her lightly scan his surface thoughts and he allowed it, images of his brother awake and grinning at him sending his good news to her. He sensed her smile. (Murtagh seems to have woken up too. I'm glad.)

(Me too.) Eragon agreed contentedly. He frowned slightly. (Are you all right, Saphira? Thorn's awake, but how badly were you injured when you fought Shruikan? I heard you roar.)

(I'm fine, Eragon. My injuries were magically healed some time ago, though I don't know how.) He could feel her confusion and saw the image she sent him of her wounds glowing a mystical purple before the bit of light faded and left her whole. (I assumed it had something to do with you. Are you all right?)

The blue Rider smiled at the sudden concern in Saphira's voice.

(Yes, I'm fine. I'm glad it healed you too.)

('It'?)

(The Vault.) He could feel her confusion deepen, but exhaustion was catching up. (I'll tell you all about it later. I'm too tired to think.)

He could feel her agreement, a silent feeling of tender affection and understanding passing through their bond before the link shutdown. Eragon moved closer to Murtagh, listening to his brother's heartbeat.

"Saphira told me Thorn's awake." he said. The red Rider nodded.

"I know. He contacted me the moment he realized I was awake."

Eragon nodded, the pair falling back into a content silence even as something nagged at the back of the blue Rider's mind. He hadn't seen the silver dragon, but he knew the ethereal creature had to be somewhere nearby. He had heard it speak to him. It had lent him power and, if not for the dreams he was now sure the dragon had sent him, he would never have known his true name or defeated Galbatorix.

He could sense that there was still some unfinished business between himself and the dragon, though he couldn't imagine what. The battle with the mad king and subsequent revival of Murtagh had nothing to do with the dragon, so whatever business the creature had with him still needed to be completed. However, at the moment he was far too exhausted to try and find the dragon. He could feel his eyes sliding shut and Murtagh's heartbeat beneath his ear was lulling him to a state of utter drowsiness. He could surely finish whatever business the dragon had with him when he woke.

The motions of the red Rider's chest became even and regular beneath his head. The older of the brothers had fallen asleep. Eragon let himself drift off, the darkness of sleep enveloping him for what seemed like an instant before, as if summoned by his earlier thoughts, the silver dragon's voice sounded in his head.

_(You have triumphed.)_ The voice still echoed within itself, but the effect seemed slightly lessened somehow. Murtagh must not have heard it, since he didn't move nor make any indication of surprise at hearing the voice of a strange dragon. It was odd that the red Rider didn't wake, but Eragon dismissed it as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He scanned the chamber for any hint of silver.

Behind him, he could hear Murtagh shift.

"Eragon?" The red Rider seemed curious, but not confused. "Was that a...?"

Momentary surprise interrupted the blue Rider's search for the silver dragon. He turned towards his brother, surprised at the other's lack of surprise. All dragons but the few they knew personally were supposed to be dead, so why wasn't the red Rider more amazed at hearing the voice of one?

Somehow, the illogical nature of his brother's reaction didn't seem important and the strangeness slipped from the blue Rider's mind as he nodded.

"I've been seeing it in my dreams for a while. It showed me how to get here and told me my true name. The dragon lent me the power to revive you." he explained quietly.

"I thought all the dragons besides ours, the king's, and your elf teacher's were supposed to be dead."

Eragon shrugged uncertainly, not concerned. His lack of concern worried him, but only in a vague way which confused him even more. He decided against dwelling on his odd reactions, since contemplating why he was confused about not being disturbed by the strange reactions was giving him a headache.

"I had thought so too, but I guess we were wrong." Louder, he added. "I'm here now. I want to thank you for helping me and ask why you called me here."

_(Your thanks are accepted, though unnecessary. As to why I brought you here...)_ The dragon's voice trailed off. Eragon looked around for the silver creature, but saw nothing. Vaguely confused, Eragon almost stood up to locate the dragon when Murtagh touched his elbow. The blue Rider glanced back towards his brother.

The red Rider pointed to the far side of the chamber, on the other side of the Vault. Something large and silver gleamed on the other side, slowly moving around the glowing rock towards them. As the shape came closer, Eragon recognized the silver dragon from his dreams.

The creature seemed somehow smaller than it had previously. The dragon was roughly the size of Shruikan, though much more slender. The black dragon had been (or was, Eragon wasn't sure whether or not Saphira had killed the beast) made of muscle, built strong and powerful for fighting. While the silver dragon was similarly big, it was slender and had more lithe strength than Shruikan. It had no spikes nor horns, just smooth scales covering its body.

It bowed to him, regally dropping its head.

_(... you have already completed your task, Du Garjzla Rhielbr. I called you here to do battle with the Dark King. You have triumphed.)_ The dragon straightened, then its eyes, more gray than silver, met Eragon's.

_(As you have triumphed, I have one more task for you to complete.)_

"You didn't know I'd win?" the blue Rider asked, somewhat surprised. The dragon's gaze did not waver.

(One, even one as old as I, can not know everything. Circumstances and events led to your battle here being inevitable, though the outcome was not.)

"What if Eragon had lost?" Murtagh demanded, a touch of anger coloring his voice. "Would you be talking to Galbatorix now?"

The dragon's eyes narrowed in distaste at the suggestion, gaze moving to the red Rider.

_(I would not. I would have remained hidden and waited a century of your time for the next child who could access the Vault's power and hope the next Bringer of Light could eliminate the Dark King's influence on this world.) _The dragon's stare intensified as it moved its gaze back to Eragon. _(Will you restore the Dragon Riders as they were meant to be, before their corruption?)_

A bit taken aback by the sudden request, Eragon didn't respond right away. It was too much to take in at once.

"'A century... for the next Bringer of Light'?" he asked eventually. "There's more than one? Other people can open the Vault?"

_(There is always the potential, though few have needed to make use of the ability. Now I ask you again, will you take responsibility for the restoration of the Dragon Riders?)_ The silver creature seemed impatient. _(Decide quickly. Our time is short.)_

"I can try, but with only two dragons... I might not be able to." For a moment, Eragon's heart sank. Saphira and Thorn were the only dragons he could truly work with, since he doubted Gleadr was still fertile enough to produce young dragons and he was not about to ask the silver dragon. Saphira was the last female of her race, unless the silver dragon was also female. Even so, Eragon doubted the ethereal creature would agree to produce dragons to rebuild the Riders.

With Saphira as the last female... he had heard stories of monsters produced when a brother and a sister had children together, the main reason relationships inside a family were taboo. Even though Saphira and Thorn were not related by blood, their children would be. Would two dragons born from the same parents produce monsters worse than, say, the Ra'zac?

The dragon race might die out after all. In any case, the Riders would not - could not - rise again in Eragon's lifetime.

(Your numbers matter not. All that is required is your commitment. Do not force me to ask you a third time.)

"Then yes, I will." Eragon said quickly. "But with only two-"

_(As I have said, your current numbers matter not.)_ The silver dragon seemed satisfied, intense stare lessening.

"But without more dragons, the Dragon Riders can hardly be restored." Murtagh pointed out.

_(And you will have more.)_ The silver creature turned away. _(Every few years, we beget eggs which do not hatch. Inside are the dragonets given to the Riders when they were still pure of heart. We have not given our eggs up since the Riders fell prey to corruption. Now that another Rider had risen, one worthy of the name, we can continue with the tradition.)_ The silver creature took another look at the red Rider, who was still sitting against the wall. _(Perhaps two have risen worthy of the name.)_

It began to fade into darkness. Sensing that it was leaving, Eragon called out one last question.

"Wait - what do you mean by 'we'?"

The dragon did not pause.

_(The Dark King did not kill all of the dragons. Those that survived found safety here.) _The dragon glanced back at the two Riders. _(Look at the Vault's other side before you take your leave. I will summon you again when next you are needed.)_

The silver dragon was gone, along with the chamber and the Vault. It was as if neither had existed in the first place. Everything was complete darkness, and then Eragon's eyes snapped open.

He had been asleep.

He sat up, staring around the stone chamber wildly. His eyes lingered on the as-of-yet unseen area behind the Vault, where the silver dragon had appeared in his dream. Had he really been asleep? The dream was too vivid, far more vivid than any he'd had previously. More to the point, had the dream been another one sent by the dragon or just a result of his exhaustion?

A hand touched his elbow, the sensation so eerily reminiscent of his dream that he almost jumped. He turned to face the other Rider, seeing the shocked confusion on his brother's face. The red Rider opened his mouth several times to speak, but could find no words. Eragon waited, unable to find his own tongue as shock came crashing down on him. There was only one reason he could think of for Murtagh to be so shocked.

Finally, the older of the two spoke.

"Were you looking for a silver dragon?" he asked hesitantly. Eragon's eyes widened at the confirmation of his suspicion.

"You think the dream was true, then?" he asked hurriedly. Murtagh shrugged helplessly.

"You seemed to know more about it than me. I thought I was just having a really strange dream until I woke up and saw you looking around for it."

Eragon turned his gaze back to the chamber, slowly pushing himself to his feet. Murtagh watched, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to see if the dream was real." the blue Rider replied, staring at the Vault intently. He turned and offered his hand to his brother, who took it. Even after Eragon pulled Murtagh to his feet, the red Rider didn't let go. The older brother was a bit unsteady on his feet, wobbling while he walked, but the iron grip he had Eragon's hand in helped him keep balance. Together, the two walked for the glowing rock in the center of the chamber, then slowly followed one side around.

If the dream had been true, then there would be dragon eggs behind the Vault. None of them had ventured that far into the chamber and no one had seen the other side, so if it was true...

They walked along in silence. Eragon was the first to see light glinting off of something hard and jewel-like. Murtagh spotted the reflection of light moments later. As they fully rounded the end of the Vault, both Riders stopped and stared in shock.

Dragon eggs littered the floor in all the colors of the rainbow and more exotic shades such as gold or silver. Colors Eragon didn't even have names for decorated the rows upon rows of eggs.

"We have an entirely new generation of Riders here, Eragon." Murtagh said in awe, staring. Eragon nodded, similarly transfixed.

"So many eggs..." He began to count, stopping when he reached thirty. "We have to have at least sixty."

Murtagh turned towards him, a hint of his normal smirk breaking through his awe.

"Think you can train them all, Rider?" he asked. Eragon turned towards him and nodded.

"If you'll help."

"Of course." Murtagh took another glance at the eggs, then in the direction of the entrance to the chamber. "We'll need to find some way to get these all safely back to the Varden." He tugged lightly on Eragon's hand, the blue Rider willingly turning away from the precious eggs. "Let's head outside to discuss this with Thorn and Saphira."

The blue Rider nodded, walking alongside his brother and helping support the other Rider as they exited the stone chamber.

TBC…

A.N: I'll do review replies soon, but I wanted to get this posted before anyone came after me with a machete… I hope the chapter was enjoyable! Sorry about not updating in so long!


	41. Epilogue: Ever After

**BLANKET WARNINGS:** Eragon/Murtagh INCEST and SLASH! If either offends you, I'm sure you know where the back button is. This is a bit darker than some of my usual stuff- this does deal with homophobia, and I tried to portray Eragon as best I could in his situation (In a homophobic world, he has just realized he's gay, and he has been brought up to be homophobic) while still keeping him IC. I hope I succeeded. Since no one knows exactly what goes on in his head, I think it's pretty believable.

**BLANKET DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Eragon, or Eldest, bookwise. Chris Paolini does. I only own Talc, Krin, Eruka (though I am borrowing a bit from Naruto for Eruka… And yes, I know that's it's spelled 'Iruka' in the show, I changed the spelling), and the other random OCs through the story . The theory in here is mine as well- that Angela's Prophecy could also be taken to mean Murtagh. (I go a bit in-depth on this through the fic. I have a full copy of the theory in my profile.) If anyone steals it without crediting me and I find you, let's just say I won't be very happy.

Italics: _dreams, imaginings_

(Parentheses): Mind to mind communication (i.e. between Eragon and Saphira) Why parentheses? Because the site won't let me use carrots…

A/N: Yes, this is the final chapter. Un-beta'd, I'm afraid, so feel free to point out any mistakes in grammar or spelling or continuity errors. I will do my best to fix those.

Sorry to those of you who wanted review replies to the chapter before the previous one, but I didn't have time to get around to answering those since I've been out of state for a while. If anyone has any burning questions, feel free to ask me again and I promise to reply as soon as I can!

ALSO: Read the final author's note at the bottom for POSSIBLE SEQUEL INFORMATION.

Last Time:

The blue Rider nodded, walking alongside his brother and helping support the other Rider as they exited the stone chamber.

And Now, The Conclusion:

In Dreams Epilogue

Ever After

"So you mean to tell me that Galbatorix is dead?" Nasuada asked, expression one of utmost shock. It had been like that from the moment Thorn and Saphira had flown down with Eragon and Murtagh, the latter once again whole and healthy. The only mark of his ordeal was a thin scar, black in color, that stretched diagonally from the red Rider's shoulder to his waist. The brothers had discovered the mark on their way back to the camp when they had stopped at a small stream in order to make themselves a bit more presentable.

The eggs had been carried by the two dragons using slings made out of any spare piece of cloth and a bit of magic as extra insurance that no harm would befall the dragonets within. Even though Saphira and Thorn had each managed to carry about thirty eggs, Eragon and Murtagh had needed to hold a few while flying in order to transport all of the precious stonelike objects. The slings had made landing much more difficult, but Saphira had figured out how to slow down and set the eggs on the ground gently before landing off to the side of the blanket that served as her sling. Thorn had caught on shortly after.

The blue Rider nodded, a weary smile stretching his lips. The ride back had been difficult with so many extra burdens, but every night he and Murtagh had slept next to one another for warmth. Nothing had happened but sleeping, of course, but those had been some of the most restful nights of Eragon's life.

Murtagh motioned to the blackened hilt of a sword that rested on the ground between the woman and the two Riders. All three were sitting down inside Nasuada's tent, where the brothers had been ushered the moment they had landed and dismounted.

"That is all that remains of his sword," the red Rider said. Eragon had been the one to go back into the cave in order to collect the eggs, since Murtagh's body hadn't yet been up to the task. The blue Rider had noticed the sword hilt and had brought it back to present to Nasuada as proof. "His body crumbled into dust."

Eragon had explained - once they were good and away from the Vault - what exactly had happened in the fight since Murtagh's spirit had been trapped inside the king's body and unable to watch.

Nasuada nodded, reaching forward to gingerly pick up the sword hilt and look closely at it. Her fingers traced the faint etchings in the metal, as if in shock. Her hand was trembling as she set it back on the ground. She nodded again, much more firmly. Eragon watched, a feeling of peace settling firmly over him.

It was over. The war, the battles... everything. It hadn't truly sunk in until this moment, after he had handed his leader the proof of their victory and she had accepted it. There were still details to be sorted out of course - Alagaesia would need a new king, the soldiers in the Varden would need to settle somewhere, the dragonets inside the eggs would need to find their Riders and those were just the preliminary tasks. There was still much more to accomplish before Galbatorix would be completely erased from the memory of the people.

Subtly, he moved closer to Murtagh. Together, he felt like they could accomplish anything.

Nasuada noticed the motion and smiled.

"I'm glad everything worked out for you." she said, then stood and dusted off her clothes. The two Riders were moments behind her. "Our victory is owed entirely to the bond you two share. For that, I thank you both."

Eragon smiled gratefully, feeling Murtagh take his hand. Nasuada was quiet for a moment, apparently deep in thought. She studied the blue Rider for a moment, then smiled again.

"There is the matter of leadership for Alagaesia. It needs a strong, just ruler so it can rebuild. Not long after Eragon came to the Varden, it was decided that we would offer him the kingship if we ever won." Nasuada said softly. The younger brother felt his mouth drop open and eyes go wide.

"Do you accept?" she asked him. Still in shock, Eragon turned to his brother for help. Murtagh watched him, a knowing look in his hazel eyes.

"Go with what feels right to you, not what other people think is right." the red Rider said simply, squeezing Eragon's hand. The look of shock faded from the blue Rider's face and he smiled, looking back at the Varden's leader.

"Sorry, but I don't think I'd make a good king." He glanced down at the ground, feeling his face heat slightly. "Alagaesia hasn't been the most accepting of places in the past." He met her eyes again, seeing the understanding there. Nasuada had known he would reject it and that thought gave him confidence.

"I will continue to serve you and whoever the next ruler of Alagaesia will be, but I think I'd like to build a home in Surda."

"Somehow I knew you would say that," the dark skinned woman said, touching Eragon's shoulder gently. "King Orrin should be able to arrange a suitable home for you - and perhaps another person-" Her eyes flicked to the red Rider, a grin on her lips. "- a home with enough land to house two dragons and possibly even an area to train new Dragon Riders."

She turned towards the entrance to the tent and began to walk out.

"I believe a celebration is called for." Nasuada glanced back towards the two brothers, giving them a quick once-over. "There will be plenty of time to rest beforehand - something like this requires more of a celebration than we can properly give it out here. Once we have returned to Aberon, we will celebrate our victory."

Line Break - Several Days Later

Eragon walked through the streets of Aberon, humming quietly to himself while a grin stretched his lips. The festival was in full swing around him, crowds of people milling about and drinking and laughing and generally having fun. Though quite a few of the adults were well on their way to being completely intoxicated, there had yet to be a single brawl. Some men had started fighting a few times, but just as quickly they would stop and laugh and move on to talking as if they were old friends.

Winning a war tended to cool tempers.

Eragon stepped nimbly to one side of the dirt walkway, moving close to a small stand of meat pies as a group of children came racing through. The children ranged in ages, but none were more than ten and each child was covered in mud from head to toe and laughing and squealing. The Rider's keen ears could hear some adults mutter about how ill mannered the kids were, but no one seemed to truly mind and within minutes the children had run out of earshot.

Eragon moved back on the path and continued walking. It felt so good to be back in clean clothes - the Varden had been walking for days in the dust, triumphant but exhausted. The wounded had been well enough to move by the time Eragon and Murtagh had returned, but even then it was slow going so that the injured didn't reopen their wounds.

His smile widened as he though of his brother. While on the road, since neither of them had used a tent to begin with, they had continued sleeping next to one another out in the open air with their dragons. Once back in Surda, however, they had separate rooms and had been too exhausted when they arrived the previous night to move the red Rider's things into the larger room. After sleeping in Murtagh's bed, the blue Rider had gone to his own room to change and the majority of his day had been taken up by meetings deciding what would happen with Alagaesia now that it didn't have a ruler. The older brother had been at the same meetings, of course, but they hadn't gotten much of a chance to talk privately with each other.

They had, however, had time to promise to meet each other at tonight's festival and decide on a meeting place. It was that place Eragon was heading for.

A sudden tap on his shoulder made the blue Rider nearly jump, but he turned to see who it was. Upon recognizing the face, Eragon's smile faded. He nodded politely, turning to face his cousin and moving back just a step to increase the distance between them.

"Good evening, Roran. Enjoying the festival?" he asked, tone civil but not quite happy. Murtagh would expect him in a few minutes and any minute lost was a minute wasted. The farmer looked uncomfortable, able to only briefly meet his cousin's eyes before looking away. Roran reached out to clap Eragon on the shoulder as he always used to do, but though Eragon allowed the move he tensed under his cousin's palm and New Carvahall's leader quickly removed his hand.

"Ah... Eragon, I just wanted to - to ask if you'd... talk to me for a few minutes." Roran said, emotions Eragon couldn't quite read underlying his voice. Slowly, the blue Rider nodded. He could sense that his cousin had something important to say, though he wasn't sure what.

"All right, but I have to be going soon. Murtagh's expecting me."

Roran flinched slightly at the name, but nodded as though resigned. The farmer glanced around, then spotted a small alley off to the side of the street.

"Can we talk over there? What I want to discuss is rather... private."

Again, Eragon nodded. He followed his cousin and the pair went no further than the mouth of the alley before stopping. They faced each other, Roran's expression one of uncertainty and shame.

"What is it you wanted?" Eragon asked, tone carefully polite. Roran met his eyes and finally held them.

"I had the chance to do some... thinking while you were gone with... him." There was still that pause, that flash of anger, but then Roran shook his head, looking at the ground again. "When you were gone with Murtagh."

Slightly taken aback by his cousin's use of the red Rider's name, Eragon said nothing and allowed the farmer to continue.

"I wrote to Katrina to ask her advice and-" The leader of New Carvahall met the blue Rider's eyes again. "-you're welcome at any time to New Carvahall. She also hopes that you'll still agree to be Terrin's godfather."

There was a pause.

"I think I agree with her. You're welcome to visit any time and... he can come too."

Eragon opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn't. This had to be a huge concession for Roran to make and the fact that Roran was trying at all... It spoke volumes. The blue Rider was touched, especially since the offer had been extended to include Murtagh without any prompting.

"I'd be honored," he replied numbly. Roran smiled hesitantly, then extended his hand.

"Cousin?"

Eragon shook it.

Line Break

The red Rider idly tossed a coin into the air and caught it, hazel eyes scanning the crowd for a sign of his brother. Eragon was already late, though not by much. Still, if the other Rider took too much longer to arrive he would need to go out searching.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face through the crowd. It wasn't the right familiar face, but it was a relief to see all the same. He waved at Eldan as the brown haired man slipped through the crowd towards a stall of pastries and sweets. Eldan saw the wave, waving back with a wide smile before turning back to his task. Knowing Talc couldn't be far away, Murtagh scanned the crowd looking for blonde hair. His eyes passed over several blonde heads before finally spotting the other man leaning against the wall on the far side of the square. He waved, smiling when Talc waved back.

"Murtagh!"

The red Rider turned towards the sound, smiling widening as he recognized the voice. Eragon was running up to him, face a bit red and breathing a bit heavily- it was clear the blue Rider had run. When the younger brother reached the older, he stopped and breathed deeply. His lungs quickly returned to a more normal rhythm and the blue Rider began speaking.

"Sorry I'm late - had a run-in with my cousin." he explained briefly before moving forward to give his brother a light kiss. The soft, almost tentative brush of lips against his own was enough to send a warm, content feeling through the red Rider's body and he quickly returned the chaste kiss with a slightly more passionate one of his own.

When the two broke apart, Eragon's face significantly redder than it had been before, Murtagh took the younger Rider's hand and the pair began to walk.

"What did he have to say?" Murtagh asked, watching Eragon's face brighten ever so slightly.

"Roran seems to have come to terms with... us..."

The word 'us' seemed foreign to Eragon and the younger brother paused for a moment while saying it, warm contentment radiating from his expression. The blue Rider looked at his older brother with a smile.

"Everything seems to be working out. Nasuada's coronation is set for a week from now and after that we'll be able to start bringing about the true second rise of the Riders. King Orrin has already promised us land as thanks for killing Galbatorix." Eragon looked up towards the stars. They twinkled brightly in the night sky.

"It seems like just another dream that I'll soon wake from. I have to keep reminding myself that it's real."

The red Rider leaned close to whisper in his brother's ear.

"You're not dreaming anymore. This is real. I'm real." Soft lips pressed against his temple. "Would you like more proof?"

The blue Rider turned towards his brother, already leaning in.

"Yes."

Their lips met.

They had come far for this moment, a long, rocky road behind them and hard work in front of them, but for the moment that didn't matter. Eragon embraced his brother tightly, letting the older take control of their kiss as Murtagh pulled him close.

For the moment, the tasks ahead could be forgotten.

For the moment, they could just enjoy what they had worked hard to obtain.

Now they could be themselves and be honest.

Now their desires were not confined to their dreams.

The End

A/N: … It seems odd for it to finally be over, after what, four years? This has been my baby for so long, it seems strange to let it go… Hopefully there weren't too many mistakes and this epilogue wasn't terrible – either terribly sugary/cheesy or terribly boring and rushed, or some sort of horrible mix.

If anyone has any lingering questions, feel free to PM me or ask in a review! (I'm fairly friendly, so please do e-mail me or PM me for whatever reason! My e-mail can be found on my profile.)

I want to thank all of you who have stayed with me throughout this story and my awful habit of updating so irregularly. I would list you all, but then I think the list would be longer than this chapter! My thanks goes out to each and every one of you – thank you so much!

I love you all and hope you enjoyed the final installment of In Dreams! Thank you for making this my most popular fanfiction to date!

POSSIBLE SEQUEL! I may do a small oneshot sequel for those of you who would like to know what is going on with the boys five or ten years down the road. It would be short – as I said, a oneshot – but I would try and answer any questions you have about what happened to the characters later on. Just let me know (via review or PM or something) how many are interested in seeing a oneshot sequel, though I can't promise when I'd have time to write one. It may be soon or it may be in a few months, but if you ask for it, I will get it done.


End file.
